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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26046139">My Heart on the Trigger</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levaaah/pseuds/Levaaah'>Levaaah</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Freefalling [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010), Nightwing (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alfred Pennyworth is a Saint, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Canon-Typical Violence, Dialogue Heavy, Dick Grayson is a Ray of Sunshine, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Minor Injuries, Protective Siblings, Supportive Bruce Wayne, Supportive Dick Grayson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:22:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>30,000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26046139</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levaaah/pseuds/Levaaah</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Fighting til' the wars won<br/>I don't care if heaven won't take me back<br/>I'll throw away my faith, just to keep you safe<br/>And I, wanna live, not just survive</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Eleanor doesn’t believe in destiny. She doesn’t believe in karma or fate or whatever other name there is for this mysterious force that some people claim guided their lives. Eleanor believes in people, and people make decisions that are both good and bad. So why is it so difficult for her to believe her own eyes when she stares back into the sea-green of someone she thought long dead? The man, dressed in grey body armour, a brown leather jacket and holding a red helmet under one arm, staring back at her, though unlike her it’s not a disbelieving look on his face. Instead it’s pensive, hesitant almost. </p><p>“Hey Ella.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson/Original Female Character(s), Jason Todd &amp; Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Freefalling [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631698</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. And if these wings don't fail me I will meet you anywhere</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>2020 – March – Gotham </p><p> </p><p>Eleanor doesn’t believe in destiny. She doesn’t believe in karma or fate or whatever other name there is for this mysterious force that some people claim guided their lives. Eleanor believes in people, and people make decisions that are both good and bad. She believes in things that she can see, as for instance. She knows that magic exists, it’s a real thing that some people are more attuned to than others. She doesn’t like it, but she doesn’t have to. It’s real. It’s there. It can be touched and seen. And in some cases smelled, which Eleanor doesn’t have the greatest of experiences with.</p><p>So why is it so difficult for her to believe her own eyes when she stares back into the sea-green of someone she thought long dead?</p><p>Maybe it’s because the human mind is a complex engine that is very fond of trying to make things up when shit isn't easy to understand. Hallucinations, tricks of the mind, even some sort of spell. But she hadn’t taken any hits to the head recently, there were no drugs or other substances in her system and there were no encounters with any sort of magic users in the past year.</p><p>Yet this time it’s not the bloodied and broken fourteen-year-old she sees. The one that haunted her dreams to this day still. The one that Eleanor failed five years ago. As the sky lights up in a flash of lightning it shines through the painted glass sending specks of multi-coloured light that makes everything look ethereal, like it’s a picture out of a fairy tale. The man with sea-green eyes stands up. He’s tall, over six feet, broad shouldered and muscular that befits someone who’s got to grow up. Not someone rotting in a fancy coffin six feet under unforgiving grave dirt.</p><p>The man, dressed in grey body armour, a brown leather jacket and holding a red helmet under one arm, starring back at her, though unlike her it’s not a disbelieving look on his face. Instead it’s pensive, hesitant almost.</p><p>Eleanor is at a loss for words, she blinks rapidly behind her domino, wondering why now of all times would her brain get the idea to hallucinate again. And why of this person. <em>It’s not him. It can’t be </em>him.</p><p>He shifts ever so slightly, the look on his face softening to something fond. And when he speaks his voice is so familiar it puts a pressure on her heart. Eleanor wants so badly to wake up or shake out of whatever nightmarish dream her brain has cooked up for her. But at the same time she wants it to last forever, if this is the last image she’ll have of her brother she doesn’t want it to end.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Ella.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <span class="u">24 Hours Earlier.</span> </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“It’s not that bad.” Dick lightly protests as she guides him back to the medical table.</p><p>“You got shot not four hours ago, you’re lucky it didn’t hit anything major.” Eleanor replies, brushing some of the stubborn black strands away from his eyes. She’s just arrived back at the manor, having flown from Boston as soon as she could. Two days ago Alfred had called, someone is messing with their network, more importantly, someone who knew their tactics is screwing them over, and Dick, ever the reliable, had taken the first flight back to Gotham. Bruce hadn’t asked for them, but Dick had volunteered anyway. He’d gone ahead of her, Eleanor still had school in Boston after all.</p><p>Alfred had picked her up twenty minutes ago at the airport, and once they got to the house the old butler had convinced her she was needed in the cave. He was good at hiding it, but Eleanor knew he worries. Her father turned forty-two this year, and though he’s still incredibly healthy for his age, Bruce <em>is</em> slowing down. They’ve all seen it, even if Bruce himself would never admit to it. On top of that, his unhealthy sleeping pattern isn’t helping. When she’d gotten out of the elevator down to the cave proper, the second thing she’d taken note of was how incredibly tired Bruce had looked. Still bent over his keyboard, going through footage on the multiple screens of the computer.</p><p>Dick grumbles unhappily, drawing her back to the present. But does accommodate her wishes by sitting back down on the exam table. She grabs the bracer that Alfred no doubt had put there and helps him click it into place. They don’t really need to adjust it much, it’s still in the proper settings from the last time he got shot. That thought alone makes her a bit grumpier. It’s a nice brace though, specialized Wayne tech that had been created for warzones. To help soldiers get on their feet quickly in the middle of combat.</p><p>“Good?”</p><p>“Yup.” He smiles. “Now c’mere.” He tugs her in closer, pressing his lips to hers in a sweet greeting kiss. Eleanor closes her eyes, enjoying the softness of his lips and the warm touch of his hand cupping her jaw. Even though they’ve only been apart for little less than forty-eight hours, she still misses him. Misses the casual touches and soft gazes. The comfort of just being in his presence.</p><p>Only to have the peace broken by Bruce, making a very pointedly unhappy noise not thirty feet away, even though his back is to them, he probably got a dozen cameras all over the place. Eleanor pulls back from her boyfriend, just barely managing to not roll her eyes and Dick just chuckles, letting her go as he swings his uninjured leg back and forth, his restlessness showing. He then not so subtly looks to Bruce, back to her and nodding his head in the formers direction as if to say, ‘go on’. Biting back the sigh that threatens to force its way out of her lungs, Eleanor drops her hand from Dick’s shoulder and walks over to the computer.</p><p>The video playing on the main screen is of someone she kind of recognizes. It’s the same man that saved her eight months ago, the one that had cared enough to get her to safety before Cass had gotten to her. The one that knew about her security protocol, a protocol that had changed since. The footage is from Batman’s cowl, they’re running through the city, and the man – without fault, as he’s climbing a ladder, turns and cuts the supposedly uncuttable line that Batman managed to throw around his legs. Before it goes taut.</p><p>“That’s practised.” She says, crossing her arms as the video replays.</p><p>“Hn.”</p><p>“So you didn’t manage to track him down last August?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“That’s worrying, he’s clearly got training.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>She sighs. Okay it’s going to be one of those conversations.</p><p>The video replays. Eleanor glances to Dick over her shoulder, looking away and pretending like he’s not paying attention to the conversation.</p><p>“Dad,” she says then, slowly approaching the chair he’s sat in. “When was the last time you slept?”</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>She almost, <em>almost</em> reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration.</p><p>“I didn’t ask how you are. I asked; when was the last time you slept?”</p><p>Eleanor doesn’t get an immediate reply, so she reaches out to the controls, about to pause the video when his hand catches her wrist. Still gloved, still completely dressed in his armour, except for the cowl. For the first time in months Eleanor meets her father’s blue eyes without interference from his mask. The grip on her wrist isn’t hard enough to hurt, in fact when she presses forward to touch the pause button Bruce lets her. The video freezes on the red hooded figure, and he lets go of her arm.</p><p>“A while.”</p><p>“Alfred worries.” She says, even though what she really means is <em>‘we all worry’</em>. “You should get some rest. You always tell us it’s good to come back with fresh eyes.”</p><p>Bruce rubs his eyes, rests his cheek against his knuckles for a brief moment.</p><p>“Look,” she says, “I’ll go through the footage, the files. It’s all there right?” Eleanor doesn’t know why she’s asking, he was too much of a perfectionist to not have it all documented. She places her hand on his shoulder, reassuring, supporting. <em>‘You can rely on me’ </em>is what she’s trying to convey. His hand drops from his face, he stands, Eleanor’s hand leaves his shoulder. For a second it looks as though he’s going to say something, then he just nods and leaves to the showers, Alfred’s rule about no capes in the manor still in effect.</p><p>It gets so silent that she can hear the bats in the cave ceiling chirping softly, then she turns the chair around and slumps down in it. For a moment feeling like she’s fifty instead of twenty-two. Dick takes the opportunity to hobble over – despite the disapproving look she gives him and kisses her on the top of the head.</p><p>“Good job.” He says, leaning heavily on his uninjured leg. Eleanor makes a noise that is dangerously close to one of the ‘hn’s’ that Bruce makes. Dick turns the chair in his direction before sliding onto her lap, happily wrapping an arm around her shoulders to keep himself balanced. The noise Eleanor makes at that is far more pleased, she loops an arm around his waist and slowly moves them back to face the computer screens.</p><p>“Have you seen the files?” she asks, as she starts flicking through them.</p><p>Dick hums. “Yeah, seems this guy has taken inspiration from one of Joker’s old aliases.”</p><p>Why is it always Joker.</p><p>Dick squeezes her shoulders when he feels her tense up. Eleanor tried to avoid anything related to the madman if she could, only to try and temper her anger. Even after all these years she still couldn’t find it in herself not to get angry at the sight of him. It was always difficult not to take the fight personally, since the maniac liked to gloat over the fact that he killed a Robin, how they had failed to save him.</p><p>“So this new guy, he’s not working for any of the A-listers?”</p><p>Dick shrugs as Eleanor starts reading the reports, shorthand notes mostly, some are more in-depth.</p><p>“B thinks he’s waging a war against Black Mask.” He says.</p><p>“So criminals fighting criminals. Has any innocents gotten hurt?”</p><p>“So far? No. But we all know that will change if Mask decides to actually put more effort into it.”</p><p>She kind of wants to argue the point of criminals killing each other, on one hand, yes. They were people too and deserved a second chance to make a right decision. On the other hand… one less person who wanted to hurt another person.</p><p>Eleanor has never killed. She’s maimed, bruised and seriously injured thugs and villains. But never killed. Yet there’s a part of her that kind of understands what this Red Hood is doing. Making sure that rapists, drug dealers and murderers couldn’t repeat what they’ve done. And he couldn’t be all bad, he had saved her life after all. It was unmistakably the same person. Red hoodie, or red helmet, coupled with the grey body armour, brown leather jacket and black combat boots. The same two pistols, and the same kris knife.</p><p>She goes back to the video, replaying the whole chase section and watching Red Hood’s movement closely.</p><p>“It’s so familiar.” She murmurs out loud. “Maybe he’s part of the League of Assassins?”</p><p>“Why would Ra’s order this?” Dick counters, indulging her by playing devil’s advocate. “It seems a bit below him.”</p><p>He’s right. Why would Ra’s care for the Gotham criminal underworld. Testing Batman was always high on his priority list sure, since the seven-hundred-something year old saw Bruce as his heir. Sending one highly trained operative to mess with him was something Eleanor could see Ra’s do. But he wouldn’t allow the operative to deviate from mission, that was punishable by death.</p><p>Yet the Leagues training and their own weren’t all that different.</p><p>“I don’t get it.” She says, as the video once again replays. Eleanor taps her fingers against Dick’s knee, annoyed how the answer seems to be sat just out of reach. “Why save me all those months ago? And then do all of this? Why try and kill you and B?”</p><p>“Lower our guard?” Dick suggests, “we didn’t really go searching did we?”</p><p>“Bruce did.” She flicks through the folder holding all of her father’s notes again. “There was no trace of him, and then he suddenly appears a week ago.”</p><p>Eleanor shakes her head almost violently.</p><p>“I swear, there’s something so annoyingly familiar about him.” Once again she resets the video leaning forward in the chair and feels Dick’s hand comb through her loose hair in a comforting way. She slows down the video when the man in it makes a flip through the air, it’s just that slight flourish to it that’s distinct to only one other person she knows. “That.” She says, then looks up at Dick. “Those flips, they’re almost exactly how you do it.”</p><p>He grimaces, “you think he’s studied me?”</p><p>“Must have, right? How else could he have copied them?”</p><p>“We <em>could</em> just have similar styles.”</p><p>“A coincidence? You really think that?” Eleanor looks at him sceptically.</p><p>“They happen occasionally.”</p><p>“Not in our line of work.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>She squeezes his knee gently, then reaches up to turn the video off. Eleanor wasn’t going to drive herself crazy the way Bruce probably had, reviewing the same evidence over and over. When she’d arrived in the Gotham airport it had just started dawning outside. Now when she looks at the time it’s close to six in the morning. She leans her head against Dick’s shoulder, reading through the remainder of the documents, mainly casualty lists of Black Mask’s criminal empire. Both people, drugs and weapons. A bit surprised to see that Freeze had been involved in a fight and the mention of an Amazo, but the android had been dealt with and Freeze hadn’t been seen after it. When she’s done, she closes the files, then peers up at Dick’s face.</p><p>His eyes are closed, his head leant against the backrest, his breathing slow and even. Though it would look it as a glance, he’s not asleep. Not with his fingers gently running a circular patter over her arm.</p><p>“As comfortable as this chair is, I think sleeping in a real bed is better for you.” Eleanor hums. Dick makes a soft protesting noise at the back of his throat, nuzzling closer to her by pressing his nose against her hair.</p><p>“Don’t wanna move.”</p><p>“I could carry you.” She might not be as physically strong as the rest of them, and Dick was just muscle and heavier than he looked, she could still do it. Probably. Maybe not as comfortably as he would have been able to carry her.</p><p>He hums thoughtfully and Eleanor feels a smile break over her lips, threatening to make her laugh.</p><p>She doesn’t really think they conformed to the usual view of gender that most of the world had. Sure, Eleanor cooked and cleaned, but not because of Dick’s lack of interest or some antiquated role assumption. She cooked because she had learned how to and wanted to eat healthy food (not just takeout, Dick!) She cleaned because she <em>liked</em> it. Then again Dick was the one that usually went shopping whenever they needed something, and when her coursework got particularly intense he would happily pick up the slack. He’d even taken some cooking classes with other people from the shelter he worked at, to her great amusement.</p><p>Eleanor spins the chair around, and without further prompting, stands. Carrying Dick in her arms, bridal style. He gives up a small yelp in surprise, arms tightening around her shoulders, then throws his head back and laughs.</p><p>“No pain then?” She asks, gently adjusting her grip on him.</p><p>“None that isn’t worth it.” He says through his laughter. Eleanor huffs, shaking her head at his antics, but the smile doesn’t leave her lips. Dick’s laugh had always had that effect on her, it was just so contagious. She starts walking them to the changing area, Dick still in his Nightwing uniform, and Eleanor might be brave and bold, but she wasn’t brave enough to face Alfred’s wrath by breaking the golden manor rule. <em>No bat-equipment in the house.</em></p><p>Dick keeps chortling even after she’s sat him down on one of the benches, looking up at her with glittering blue eyes.</p><p>“You’re ridiculous.” She says fondly, crouching down to start working his gloves off his hands.</p><p>“Yes.” Dick agrees, he doesn’t make any sort of motion to help her, bar lifting his arms up so she can pull the top part of his uniform off. Removing the bracer to get his boots and trousers off, Eleanor then grabs a pair of grey sweats and a black tee with Gotham Knight’s written across it’s back and one of the medical kits from the wall.</p><p>“Leg out.” She prompts him, tapping his calf. Dick stretches his bandaged leg out in front of her without complaint. Eleanor cleans her hands with disinfectant and undoes the bandage, wrinkling her nose slightly at the sight of his stitched bullet wound marring the golden tan of his skin. It’s going to scar undoubtedly. She trails her fingers over another scar higher on the outside of his thigh. It’s a thin short line, a knife. Eleanor hadn’t been around when he’d gotten it.</p><p>“Would you stop getting shot and/or stabbed if I asked you to pretty please stop getting shot and/or stabbed?” She looks at him, and Dick grins back at her.</p><p>“Probably not, but I’ll do my best babe.”</p><p>He inhales sharply when she gently cleans the wound with more antiseptic, giving him an apologetic look for causing him more pain. Then tightly wraps another bandage around his leg, kissing his knee when she’s done.</p><p>“Best nurse ever.” Dick hums playfully when she helps him put his sweats on.</p><p>“Oh?” Eleanor raises an eyebrow. “Here I thought you said the bloody nurse outfit I wore to the Halloween party was the best one.”</p><p>“Skirt could have been shorter.” He winks. Eleanor shakes her head.</p><p>“It was <em>not</em> a slutty nurse outfit.”</p><p>Dick clicks his tongue cheekily. “My favourite part was still taking it off of you after everyone left.”</p><p>She sighs with a smile on her lips, more fond than exasperated. Gathering the first aid kit back up and placing it back on the wall, throwing away the dirty bandage.</p><p>“Maybe you could wear something similar for my birthday?” When she looks back at him he’s gotten into his tee and is looking at her with those beautiful blue puppy dog eyes that she has no resistance against. Eleanor swears he could make her do anything if he really wanted to, by just looking at her with those eyes.</p><p>“Who’s to say I don’t already have plans for your birthday?”</p><p>Dick’s eyes widen in interest, he stretches his arms out for her to help him up.</p><p>“You do?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“It’s a surprise.” She says, quickly kissing his cheek and throwing his arm around her shoulder to help him walk.</p><p>“I can’t even get a little hint?”</p><p>Eleanor snorts. “You’re literally a detective Dick, if I give you a hint you’ll solve the whole thing.”</p><p>Dick pouts, and by the time they get into the elevator leading back up to the manor, he isn’t bothering to fight his smile anymore.</p><p>“Not even a little hint?”</p><p>“Nope.” Eleanor pop’s the ‘p’.</p><p>“Itsy bitsy tiny hint?”</p><p>Eleanor huffs, looking at him with fond exasperation.</p><p>“No hints.” She repeats, then leans in to kiss him to shut him up.</p><p>Dick doesn’t complain.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The next morning Eleanor spends the whole day pampering her boyfriend silly, (he calls it fuzzing, but she knows that he secretly enjoys the attention). They spend most of the morning in the longue, the TV playing silly cartoons while Dick rests his head in her lap and she reads the news on her phone before grabbing a book from the library. Alfred brings them breakfast in the form of home baked bread and hand pressed orange juice that makes them both regret moving out for a split second. Also, how does Alfred even have time to do all of these things. Honestly, of all the years Eleanor’s spent in the manor, she doesn’t think she’s ever <em>seen</em> Alfred press juice, it’s just always <em>there.</em> Then after breakfast Dick somehow – see puppy dog eyes – manages to convince her to steal some of the chocolate chip cookies that Alfred had made, still warm. She helps clean the kitchen up as a peace offering and Alfred doesn’t breathe a word about it, he does however as passive aggressively as he can, bring Dick a glass of milk to go with his stolen treasure.</p><p>When Dick falls asleep around lunch Eleanor takes the time to go running around the property, along the wall that spans the length of part of the land that surrounds Wayne manor. The March air is still cold despite the sun occasionally breaking through the greying clouds in the sky. Still, it’s a nice cold, a brisk one that contrasts nicely with how warm she gets from the run. Once she get’s back inside Alfred has a refreshing lunch made for all three of them – and she hasn’t seen Bruce at all, she later finds him in the lab part of the cave, going over note after note. Eleanor tries to help him but finds out that he’s in one of those sarcastic snarky moods that threaten to make her explode in anger, so she leaves Bruce to his sulking and returns to the lounge where Dick and Alfred are busy playing chess. For a moment she tries to calm herself by idly flipping through the news feed on her phone and listening to Dick’s happy chattering.</p><p>It’s easier said than done.</p><p>It takes approximately a minute before she’s out of the comfortable leather sofa and walks over to the gym. For a second she considers boxing, to get the frustration out of her system. But then her gaze is drawn to the yoga mats and that’s how Dick finds her five minutes later. Uncoiling from a tricky position and stretching out her spine.</p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>“Sure.” She replies, rolling over to her back and tucking her knees up to touch her chest, after a couple of seconds of holding that position she stretches both legs out and up in a ninety-degree angle.</p><p>“You?” She tilts her head to look at him, slowly moving her legs down then holds them in a forty-degree angle. Dick stretches his injured leg out in front of him as he takes a seat on one of the benches.</p><p>“You’re deflecting.”</p><p>“Am not.” She’s might be a little, but she also wants to know how he’s doing.</p><p>“Is Bruce not cooperating?”</p><p>“He’s acting like a toddler who doesn’t want to share his toys.” She snaps, then grimaces. Her muscles tremble from effort of holding her legs in the same position for so long. Eleanor breathes in deeply through her nose, counting silently to three in her head before she exhales through slightly parted lips. The calming technique itself was something amongst the first thing’s she’d learned on her journey of becoming a vigilante.</p><p>“He’s being stubborn.” She says after a while, Dick continues to watch her without judgement.</p><p>“Pot-kettle.” He says then, one eyebrow raised.</p><p>Eleanor resists huffing out loud, tucking her legs up to her chest again, slowly rotating her hips from side to side.</p><p>“He doesn’t want any help.”</p><p>She doesn’t see the point of them staying if Bruce isn’t willing to accept the help. Even though… even though the case itself feels like there’s an itch that she needs to scratch. Like Eleanor needs to be there to see it to the end. Maybe it’s just the completionist in her or maybe she’s just too stubborn to walk away from it.</p><p>Dick purses his lips, seeing straight through her like he always does. “But you’re interested in the case now.”</p><p>She slowly uncurls from the almost fetal position, rolling over to her stomach and then stands in an upside down ‘V’ shape on her toes and then stretches one leg straight out.</p><p>“Which means you’re still going to go out tonight, see it out to the end.”</p><p>Eleanor’s half tempted to glare at Dick for being right, instead she focuses on stretching her other leg out. Then after a moment of holding that pose she tilts to the side, stretching both arm and leg out at once in a sideway starfish position. Honestly, she doesn’t remember the right names for all of the yoga poses but she does know what works and what doesn’t.</p><p>Dick’s smiling at her when she flicks her hair out of her face with a jerk of her head.</p><p>“You’ll run coms?” She asks.</p><p>“Mh-hmm.” He nods.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It’s a question she’s asked herself time and time again; will she ever get used to the feeling of freefalling? To feel that tug in her gut as she watches the ground come at her at a speed that should be alarming yet fills her with so much adrenalin, it feels like she’s vibrating out of her own skin. When the grapple hook connects with the concrete on the exact spot that gets her the maximum swing back up into the night air it almost feels like her bones is going to pop out of their joints from how taut the line goes. Eleanor imagines that if she hadn’t been in her suit, which takes some of the stress of the G’s off of her, that would have actually happened. She’ll be sore in the morning.</p><p><em>“Cutting it close.”</em> Dick’s voice sounds like liquid honey in her ear. Eleanor grins even though he can’t see her, grabbing a hold of a metal pipe to redirect her trajectory.</p><p>“Don’t be jealous babe.”</p><p>Dick chuckles on the other end, <em>“it sounds like you’re having fun.”</em></p><p>“I am!” Even though the air smells faintly of garbage and chemicals, it still feels good to have it ruffle her braided hair as she tucks in and rolls onto a rooftop, only to throw herself off the other end and with the assistance of her grapple line, swing through the air, momentarily weightless. It reminds her of spending time in the Watchtower, specifically in the zero G room overlooking Earth. The second most breathtaking sight she’s ever seen.</p><p>She’s already stopped a couple of robberies, a hold up at a liquor store and managed to convince a couple of drunk collage kids that jumping into the Gotham River was a really bad idea, as it was about as likely to give you a cold as it was to mutate you.</p><p><em>“Seems pretty calm out there tonight.”</em> Dick says, breaking the relative silence.</p><p>Eleanor hums, “maybe you should get some rest then.”</p><p>
  <em>“That means moving away from my cosy blanket fort.”</em>
</p><p>“You made a blanket fort next to the computer?” She asks, incredulous. Stopping by the lip of a building, peering down into the darkness of the streets. Eleanor could have sworn she’d heard something.</p><p>
  <em>“Alfie’s been helping. Right?”</em>
</p><p><em>“Indeed, Master Richard. I would suggest a bed would make a much more comfortable,”</em> the old butler clears his throat. “<em>Blanket fort.</em>” Eleanor swears she hears Alfred mutter ‘Alfie’ under his breath once he’s done scolding Dick.</p><p>She slowly starts climbing down the fire escape, trying to be a soundless as she can while simultaneously listening to Dick argue that he doesn’t need to rest any longer – because he’s ready to tear his hair out already and it’s only been a day since he got shot. When her boots hit solid concrete, the smell of the alley only intensifies. Garbage, alcohol, other less pleasant scents and under it all the tang of something sickly sweet, and… Like walking past the fish markets by the docks.</p><p>It hasn’t been raining for quite some time, so when she spots the dark liquid on the ground it impossible to not jump to conclusions.</p><p>“I’ve got blood, a lot of it.” She crouches down, reaching into her belt for her tools. The jovial atmosphere over the com drastically changes into a serious one.</p><p><em>“More than one person?”</em> Dick asks, she hears the tapping of the keyboard in the background when he speaks.</p><p>“I <em>really</em> hope so.” Too much blood for one person to have survived. “Analysing the sample now, can you…?”</p><p>
  <em>“On it.” </em>
</p><p>Eleanor straightens up just as a rat scurries past her, she watches the mangey pest as it burrows into a bunch of black garbage bags with a frown on her face. Sure, maybe the Gotham rats where slightly bigger than the average rat in other cities, but that one had looked almost too well fed. Her gut churns in disgust, her imaginative mind already seeing several unappealing reasons as to why that is.</p><p>It’s the hand that almost makes her gag, you’d think she’d be used to crime scenes by now but when it flops down from the slightly moving trash pile she has to turn away for a second to get herself under control.</p><p>The hand – that is not attached to it’s body, is rotted and gnawed on. Eleanor removes the other bags, only to almost come face to face with the owner of said hand.</p><p>“Found a body.” She says into her com. It’s difficult not to switch off, to go into the analytical mode that only cares for the hard data. Maybe Eleanor should be glad that after all of these years it’s still so difficult to see someone’s eyes void of any light.</p><p>The body is a man, with the decomposition it’s difficult to see but she guesses late thirties to mid-forties. She removes more of the garbage bags to reveal his legs.</p><p>“GSW to both knees.” She murmurs. “But not cause of death. He bled out, cut to the throat. He’s been here for a while, a little over a week maybe.” Around the same time that Red Hood had started his campaign against Black Mask, or so they guessed.</p><p><em>“I’ve got face rec from your domino.”</em> Dick says, his tone low<em>. “Alan Whitaker, he’s got a long list of offences. Spent ten years in Blackgate.”</em></p><p>“What did he do?” She wonders why it matters now, he’s dead.</p><p><em>“Robberies, domestic abuse, harassment.”</em> Dick clears his throat. <em>“Several reports of sexual assault. He wasn’t a good guy.”</em></p><p>“No.” Eleanor agrees. “Sounds like Red Hood M.O. though.” The repeated criminal history. Kneecaps blown off and a shallow throat slit, a long and painful way to go. She could even bet that this one had been thrown off the side of a building, judging by the way his skull looks partially cracked inwards.</p><p>
  <em>“I’ve made an anonymous tip to the GCPD, even if he was a scumbag, he doesn’t deserve to rot in an alley.”</em>
</p><p>Dick Grayson, still setting examples for people to live up to.</p><p>Eleanor both agrees and disagrees, for all of the victims this man has left behind he deserves everything he’s gotten and worse, he deserves to be forgotten. Yet he might have family out there, a mother or father who worries. And they might not be bad people, they would deserve answers.</p><p>She straightens out, whatever evidence that might have been here would have been long gone by now. There was no point of her loitering around, the police would deal with it. Eleanor doesn’t wait around for them, instead she grapples up to the roof and immediately starts searching for shell casings. She finds none, not a surprise either. Seeing as how trained the guy who did this was.</p><p><em>“You alright there, pretty bird?”</em> Dick asks softly once she’s gained some distance from the crime scene.</p><p>“Yeah,” she hums, filling her lungs with slightly less smelly air. “Just need to get the images out of my head.”</p><p><em>“It was gruesome.”</em> He agrees. <em>“Do you think this Hood guy ever gets his targets wrong?”</em></p><p>“You mean; has he killed innocents?”</p><p>
  <em>“Yeah.”</em>
</p><p>“Hard to say, all the VIC’s in the files seem to be murderers, traffickers, and drug runners infamous for deal to kids. But, Murphy’s law right? Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.”</p><p>
  <em>“Pessimist.”</em>
</p><p>“Realist.” She argues back.</p><p>For a brief moment everything stands still, Eleanor holds her breath and balances on the edge like she’s done over a thousand times before. Not the physical one, the proverbial one. The one that determines if she’s going to lose her mind or not. For all the scars that she carries on her body, the mental ones are worse. Death is such a familiar companion to them all, and it’s times like this when it feels like one step wrong would send her spiralling down a path not dissimilar to those that villains took. And it scares her, to think that she’s one step away from becoming what she fights.</p><p>“Are you ever scared?” She asks quietly.</p><p>Dick doesn’t reply for a long time, then quietly as if he’s trying to stop the rest of the world but her from hearing it he murmurs. <em>“Almost always.”</em></p><p>They’ve had this conversation before.</p><p>“Me too.”</p><p><em>“I love you, Ellie.”</em> Dick says.</p><p>Her foot steadies, it might scare her, but the difference from all the villains and criminals she fights is that there’s always going to be someone there to catch her. A lifeline. A safety-net.</p><p>She starts running to the edge, wind rushing through her hair as she swings through the tall gothic buildings.</p><p>“I love you too.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm back with another installment of this series!<br/>Thank you all for taking the time and reading the stuff I write, leaving kudos and comments make my day!<br/>Chapters usually post on Friday's/Saturdays or rare cases Sundays.<br/>Stay safe &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Don't want to know the other side of a world without you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>The clock strikes three at night when she finally links up with Batman that same night. He pulls up in the car just as she’s done tying up the unconscious guy who thought stabbing prostitutes in Burnley was a nice hobby. The two girls that the guy had been trying to murder calls her alias and cheers when she jumps into the car, taping a couple of buttons on her glove to send an alert to the GCPD while Bruce drives off. She hopes the girls will stick around so the police can take a statement, but she really doubts they would.</p><p>“What’s up?” She questions then, giving her father a side glance as she digs through her pockets for that half-eaten sandwich she bought at a corner store, the manager of the place had told her he just wanted a picture as payment, she’d slipped the money for the sandwich while he’d fumbled for his phone. The bread has been flattened but it still tastes just as good as it had when she’d started eating it.</p><p>“A lead.” He says, turning and driving them towards Newton.</p><p>When Bruce doesn’t elaborate she gestures for him to go on while stuffing the last of her sandwich in her mouth.</p><p>“Black Mask related. Maybe even the unknown assailant-”</p><p>“Red Hood.”</p><p>“… might be involved.”</p><p>Eleanor can feel him staring at her while he’s driving. She shrugs. “What? Red Hood is easier to say than ‘Unknown assailant’.”</p><p>“It’s one of Joker’s old aliases.”</p><p>“But not the psycho himself.” She points out, brushing away the breadcrumbs off her legs and ignoring the look(™) that Bruce gives her. Men and their cars.</p><p>“He’s not at Arkham.” He says after a second.</p><p>Eleanor shrugs again, despite that annoying prickle in the back of her head, <em>of fucking course he’d escaped </em>again. “So? This guy’s M.O is way off from Jokers, it’s not the same guy.”</p><p>“Hn.”</p><p>“So why do you need me?” She questions then, returning to her original query. Glancing out the window as the first thick droplets of rain start to drip down from ominously dark clouds. It’s one of those thick, blanketing warmth’s in the air. Eleanor had no doubt that it would bring both thunder and lightning soon. Perfect weather for sneaking around.</p><p>“Second set of eyes.” He replies, though the way he says it is different from normal. Less grumpy vigilante, more grumpy father. She can kind of see it for what it really is. An outstretched hand, not quite an apology for being a snappy jerk, but halfway there. That’s fine, she can live with it.</p><p>The car rolls to a stop in the shadows opposite a large warehouse, when they get outside it’s already started raining so Eleanor quickly raises her hood to not get her hair wet.</p><p><em>“Com-check.”</em> Dick calls in their ears.</p><p>“Affirmative.” Batman replies, already prowling up the building they’re next to.</p><p>“Here.” Eleanor says, as she too starts scaling it. When she gets to the top, Batman’s already swung across to the warehouse, silent despite his bulky frame. It’s always fascinating to watch him move.</p><p><em>“The only camera I have is from the back of the warehouse.”</em> Dick informs them. <em>“Looks like a bunch of cars out there though, so be careful.”</em></p><p>“People?” She asks, following Batman’s lead by swinging over and landing on the top part of a ledge under a window.</p><p>
  <em>“Two guards at the back, no distinguishable marks. They’re carrying though, AK’s I think.”</em>
</p><p>The rain smattering helps them both as they walk over the metal roof to the other end of the warehouse. The only light source is a small flickering bulb without any sort of cover that hangs over the door that the two thugs are guarding. They’re both pressed up against the wall to try and get away from the rain, and despite the loudness of the downpour hitting the metal she can still make out the conversation.</p><p>“You go.”</p><p>“I went last time, it’s your turn now.”</p><p>“I’ve been with the Boss longer, and I say you go.”</p><p>“But it’s raining.”</p><p>“Just fucking go.”</p><p>The rest of the area is quiet, almost eerily so. Out of the corner of her eye Batman moves ever so slightly, one indication is all it takes for her to fall back into old patterns. She stills, she might as well be part of the décor. Then he gives her the signal and she leaps without thinking. Throwing her line out to dampen her fall before taking out the thug that starts wandering out into the rain.</p><p>It’s brutal, efficient and quiet.</p><p>When she looks up, the other guy is slumped against the wall and Batman gives her another set of hand signals, then slips in through the door. Eleanor sighs soundlessly, dragging the bigger guy out of the rain and ties them both up.</p><p>She’s about to slip back into the shadows to find another way inside when something glints out of the corner of her eye, she spins on the spot. Prepared to deflect a knife or dart thrown her way. But nothing comes. Had they been made? No, there was no way any of these guys could possibly sneak up on the two of them. And they <em>had</em> looked. They weren’t amateurs who didn’t check their surroundings or struck up loud conversations right outside the bad guys lair.</p><p><em>“Blackbird?”</em> Dick voice calls through the com.</p><p>“I thought I saw something.” She murmurs, feeling a raindrop drip from her hood to her upper lip as she stares up into the darkness on the surrounding buildings.</p><p><em>“I don’t have a camera angle.”</em> Dick warns her.</p><p>Eleanor scales back up the building, raising her hand to her comm. “B?”</p><p><em>“Fine.”</em> He grunts quietly. <em>“Black Mask thugs, weapon shipments. Go.”</em></p><p>She balances over to the other buildings on some thick wires, jumping down just as the first flash of lightning scatters across the sky, followed by a roar of thunder. Making her way to where she thought she saw the glint of metal, despite the relative calm of the situation she feels tense. Like she’s expecting a fight. Eleanor grips another ledge and heaves herself up it just as another set of bolts strike the sky and the building alight. And the man standing not ten feet from her. The white of the lightning makes his red helmet look almost vibrant in the otherwise dark area. His position is lax, both pistols holstered at his sides, nothing in his hands but a snake shaped knife. He’s holding it like he’s inspecting the blade or watching the water drip down it’s sharp edge in quiet fascination.</p><p>Eleanor stands slowly, moving her hand subtly behind her back to get her grapple line. If she could-.</p><p>“Let’s not do that.” He says, his voice synthesised from the helmet. She stops moving when he points the knife at her. <em>Sharp enough to cut through Batman’s lines.</em> Having seen what he could do with it, she’d rather play it safe.</p><p>“Who are you?” She asks, tilting her head up.</p><p>“We’ve been over this before.”</p><p>“I know.” Eleanor slowly takes a step towards him, he follows the entire motion with his body. Shifting in just the right spot to counter her own movements. “This time it won’t be like last time.”</p><p>“Is that so?” He chuckles, it comes out garbled and distorted through the modulator. “You’re not even going to thank me for saving your life? I didn’t have to do that, you know.”</p><p>“You murdered six people that night.”</p><p>“Six <em>criminals</em> who would have happily bashed your brains in.”</p><p><em>“B?”</em> Dick’s voice comes through her ear, and despite herself Eleanor momentarily jerks her head. It’s just a slight twitch but it gets Red Hood’s attention anyway, he stills with the blade in his hand, body going taut.</p><p><em>“Bombs.”</em> Batman’s voice crackles in her ear as another deafening crack of thunder echoes down from above. <em>“The whole warehouse is rigged.”</em></p><p>Eleanor snaps her head to the guy in a red helmet, teeth clenched. He lets out another garbled chuckle as he tilts his head.</p><p>“So the big man found my present?”</p><p><em>“Blackbird’s talking to Red Hood.”</em> Dick relays.</p><p><em>“Keep him talking.”</em> Bruce orders.</p><p>Okay, she can do that. “Why go after Batman?”</p><p>“Is this the part where I monologue my <em>great evil plan</em> and buys the old man enough time to disarm my bombs like a good little <em>villain</em>?” Hood sneers, gesturing to her with his knife.</p><p>“If you’d like.” She hums, taking another step as the sky lights up again.</p><p>“Yeah, no. I’ll pass.” Then he turns and runs, Eleanor startles, momentarily stunned at the hasty retreat, she hadn’t expected him to run. She takes off after him, determined not to lose sight of him.</p><p>Déjà vu is the easiest way of describing it. The familiar feeling of having done this before returns and smacks her right in the gut as they leap from building to building. The Red Hood isn’t thinking about his action before he makes them, he just <em>does.</em> It reminds her of times both in and out of rain running around on similar rooftops with people she loves, and Eleanor forces that feeling down deep. She couldn’t let her nostalgia cloud her judgement, not now, not when they were so close to finding answers.</p><p>Red Hood slides down a sloped roof already slick from rain and kicks off to the other side, she mimics his movement not a second later and throws her grapple line out. He turns, about to cut it just like she hoped, and she flicks it in the last second and makes him miss. The line doesn’t go taut and it doesn’t catch him properly, but it does make him stumble. It gives Eleanor enough time to tackle him – it’s almost like running into a wall – to the ground, he lets out a pained grunt as they roll on the hard concrete. Eleanor bites back her own discomfort, more focused on making sure he doesn’t pull any of the multiple weapons he’s sure to have.</p><p>What Eleanor lacks in physical strength, she makes up for in agility. Which is why grappling someone almost twice the size of her is a bad idea. She’s done it before, sure, but those people don’t have the same training, and it feels like this man knows what she’s going to do before she even knows it. Like they’ve tangled before. It’s barely half a minute of struggling to get him in a good enough position to handcuff him when he manages to hit her in the stomach so hard it knocks the wind out of her.</p><p>“Stop fighting me damnit!” He snarls in her ear, still distorted by the modulator in his helmet. Her hood falls back, and the rain feels biting against her face.</p><p>“Give me a reason to!” Eleanor snaps once she’s got her breath back. If she can’t outfight him she’ll have to outlast him, give Batman enough time to catch up so they could both restrain him.</p><p>“I saved you the little one, y’know, since you’re so scrawny n’ all.” The Bowery accent slips through thickly, and Eleanor feels herself freeze up.</p><p>“What?” … Because <em>what?</em></p><p>For a second Eleanor falters as a memory unbridled forces its way into her mind. Five almost six years ago, a warehouse not dissimilar to the one she could still see out of the corner of her eyes. A young boy, dressed in reds, blacks and yellows. A flash of white teeth in a dark room, a cocky grin. Her heart beats painfully.</p><p>“What did you just say?” The fight almost leaves her in an instant, and it’s enough for him to manage to get his arms around her, the cool kiss of a gun at the side of her head. She doesn’t understand, how could he know… that? How could he have known to <em>say</em> that? Eleanor grips his arm over her throat, and the safety of the gun clicks off.</p><p>“Don’t fucking move.”</p><p><em>“Blackbird,”</em> Dick calls in her ear again, he sounds on edge and it’s enough to snap her out of her own mind. <em>“I’ve lost sight of B, he’s not answering his com.”</em></p><p>That’s bad, really bad. Or it could be nothing, he could just be sneaking up on them. She has to buy more time.</p><p>“Answer the fucking question!” She snaps, there had been no other <em>conscious</em> person in that room all those years ago, she might not have eidetic memory but of that she was certain. There was no reason for this guy to know that particular phrasing. It was… She…</p><p>“You know the answer.”</p><p>She doesn’t. <em>She doesn’t.</em></p><p>“Look,” he says then, and the gun shifts to guide her head up just as another strike of lightning cascades over the sky and the warehouse Batman is in explodes.</p><p>She’s vaguely aware of Dick calling out over the static white noise in her ear. ‘<em>Batman! Batman come in! Are you there? Answer damnit!’</em> She can’t breathe, her chest armour feels heavy and restricting. Then she hears herself, a broken <em>‘No!’</em> that is drowned out by another crack of thunder over them. Her fingers dig in to the armour of the guy holding her, she’s about to throw him away from her, not caring for the gun still pressed against her wet skin. But before she can do that there’s a sharp pinprick to her neck, just over the collar of her suit. Eleanor tries to swallow back the sudden wave of dizziness that fall over her, fighting the drug in her system. It’s got to be horse tranquilizers or something because it’s working <em>fast. </em>She tries to go for the drug neutralizer that she keeps in one of her belt pockets, but a hand stops that quickly in it tracks. It feels like her mouth is full of cotton and her knees buckle under her wight. Yet Eleanor doesn’t hit the ground like she thinks she’s about to.</p><p>Instead she stares up into the dark sky, one armoured arm around her back, another around the back of her knees. Lightning arcs across the clouds in a beautiful pattern, and it makes the helmet look so very vividly red.</p><p> </p><p>When she comes to, she has no idea how much time has passed, and the mother of all headaches presses on her temples like no tomorrow. Memory floods back to her a little, <em>rain, warehouse, red helmet,</em> and then all at once. <em>Explosion, Bruce, being knocked unconscious. </em>She keeps her breathing even, eyes closed. Using her other senses.</p><p>She can hear rain, but muted, outside. In the distance, thunder. And wind blowing through a building of some sort, a large building if she had to guess by how it whistles. No that’s not wind whistling, it’s… bells? Some time had passed, but not too much judging by the sound of the storm. She smells dust, and rotted wood, and stone. Abandoned large building with bells. A church?</p><p>Which would make sense with the pew she’s lying on, still armoured, still masked.</p><p>“You can stop pretending now.” A familiar voice calls out, quiet compared to the raging storm outside. Even without the voice modulator she recognizes the sound. The same one who saved her eight months ago. Eleanor opens her eyes to the dilapidated ceiling of the church, out of the corner of her eye she sees the dim light of soft yellow’s and red’s.</p><p>The man himself is stood by the alter, two candles lit and almost burned out with an assorted of weaponry placed in front of him.</p><p>“I don’t think you’re supposed to put guns on there.” She says, slowly sitting up. Her throat feels dry, and she swallows several times as she takes in the area.</p><p>“Yeah, well…” He chuckles, it sounds more like a scoff, “I can tell you right now there’s no God or Gods or whatever, waiting in the afterlife.”</p><p>He holds a gun up in front of him, a modified M1911. He presses the trigger and it makes and empty click noise, then he quickly disassembles it until the gun is lying in pieces on the alter. Eleanor’s eyes narrow. Sure, he might not have any weapons holstered that she can see, but his back is still to her and all she can really make out is the brown leather jacket and a mop of curly black hair. The red helmet sat on the alter next to the candles.</p><p>“If you’re worried about the big guy, Bats I mean, he’s fine. Got everyone out of the warehouse, guess he doesn’t make that mistake twice, huh?” His voice drips with venom and anger as he speaks.</p><p>“Why should I believe a word you say?”</p><p>“Guess that’s up to you.”</p><p>“Then, what makes you jury and judge?” Eleanor challenges, he made it clear that he set those charges. She slowly starts checking her pockets to make sure everything is where it’s supposed to be, the familiar weight of her collapsible bō-staff makes her feel better when she brushes her fingers over the cool metal strapped to her thigh.</p><p>“Well for starters,” he assembles the gun again, aiming it at the tipped over cross and squeezes the trigger repeatedly. “I know that every single man he got out of that building has murdered, stolen from and assaulted innocent people.”</p><p>“They deserve to die for it?”</p><p>He shrugs. “Why should they live when their victims don’t? Just so they can do it again?”</p><p>Eleanor… she can’t argue the point with him because she agrees. What right did those who murdered have to live? Even if she would never take a life herself – she doesn’t want that on her conscience, but if someone were found guilty of murder – planned murderer that is, why should they get to live?</p><p>When she doesn’t answer the man chuckles, the gun once again falling to pieces in his hands. Maybe it’s a nervous tick, keeping your hands busy so your mind doesn’t catch up with you. She knew that feeling all too well. Finishing her own pat-down, there’s not a single thing missing. Just like last time.</p><p>“What about second chances?” She asks, quietly. “People can change.”</p><p>This time he doesn’t answer. Shaking her head Eleanor reaches up to her comm and turns it on to inform Dick that she’s alive. Only to have it feedback straight into her ear. Eleanor yelps, letting out a small pained noise and taps the commlink off again to get away from that horrible piercing white noise.</p><p>“Yeah, I wouldn’t do that.” He says, patting something small and black she’d over-looked on the alter. “No signals in or out of here, not for now at least.”</p><p>“Why am I here?” Eleanor demands, standing up.</p><p>The question seems to make him pause, his shoulders dropping slightly.</p><p>“I guess… I wanted to… talk.”</p><p>“… Talk?” She echoes. Glancing around, she can see the exit. Unless he’s trapped it – which is likely since he seemed fond of doing so. Eleanor could be out of here before he caught up with her, even if she had to go through the broken window to her right. But she can’t deny she’s curious, and he hadn’t really hurt her in their scuffle earlier. Bumps and bruises sure, but with his strength he could probably have broken something. Or, actually shot her. Or stabbed her.</p><p>He picks the helmet up, flipping it over a couple of times. The guns still disassembled on the alter. Eleanor holds her breath as he turns around, the red helmet resting under one arm.</p><p>And…</p><p><em>And</em> it’s like the air is punched out of her lungs all at once. Sea-green eyes meet her own, black curly hair with a new small white addition in his fringe. Not fourteen anymore. She drags in air through her teeth, a noise like a wounded puppy escaping her. It can’t be. She’d been there when the warehouse in the mountains exploded. She’d almost died from proximity to the blast, only the spell that had misfired all those months before when a friend had been kidnapped in Paris, from a shoddy second rate warlock had protected her. Protected <em>her</em> and not her little brother. She’d held him in her arms, surrounded by soot and ash as he grew colder and colder. His suit torn to pieces, skin greying as Eleanor had rocked them, trying to <em>wake him up</em>.</p><p>His lips move and she can’t hear anything but ringing in her ears.</p><p>“Jason,” she chokes out.</p><p>Her feet move by their own accord, she almost stumbles on a bit of broken pew before taking the last steps up to where he’s stood. Silent. Watching. He doesn’t tense when she stretches her hand out, doesn’t move away when she places it over the grey body armour and <em>feels</em> that he’s stood right there. Not a hallucination. Not a trick of the mind.</p><p>Real.</p><p>He’s <em>real</em>.</p><p>“How?” She can hear her own pulse in her ears, staring up at those blue-green eyes that Eleanor only ever saw in pictures and dreams. Until now. “How are you here?” Her lip trembles and tears escape the confine of her eyes.</p><p>A part of her mind whispers it could be a trick, Clayface could change his form to look like anyone, mimic their movement. But could he accurately predict this is how Jason would have looked at nineteen? But it’s not his face, it’s his knowledge is what makes her think it’s real, Clayface didn’t know her secret identity, Clayface didn’t know their history.</p><p>She doesn’t wait for him to reply, doesn’t know if she could pay attention to anything that had been said, if anything had been said at all. She leans up, hands moving over his shoulder and to the side of his face before wrapping her arms around his shoulders and holds on tightly.</p><p>“God, Jay.” One hand cup the back of his head, the other clawing at his jacket. “Jay, Jason.” She laughs, or cries. Even if it isn’t real, it doesn’t matter anymore. This is how she always wanted to see him, grown up. Tall and strong, despite how malnourished he’d been the first time they met, no longer the street rat from Crime Alley. A man in his own right.</p><p>“Stop.”</p><p>She holds on tighter, feels one hand move up and wedge between them, pushing her away. Eleanor doesn’t understand, <em>why</em> is he pushing her away?</p><p>“Jason…?”</p><p>“Stop-… Stop pretending.”</p><p>“Pretending?” Eleanor echoes, brow furrowing, and annoyance strikes her when her domino pulls at her skin. Jason turns his head away and Eleanor shakes hers. She doesn’t understand.</p><p>“Like you care.” He says then, dragging in a breath between clenched teeth. “Like you give a damn about me.”</p><p>“What? Jason. I-I don’t understand?” How can he say that? She’s mourned him for five years. “You’re my brother!”</p><p>“Shut up!” He snarls, properly pushing her away this time, Eleanor stumbles backwards, catching herself before she falls.</p><p>“Jay-“</p><p>“You-“</p><p>“Please.” She’ll beg if he needs to hear it, she tears off her domino, not caring about her identity at the moment, all she wants is for him to understand. “I’m so sorry.” Tears freely run down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Jay. I failed you, I- I wasn’t fast enough to get to you and God… I’m so sorry.”</p><p>Words she’d said to an unmoving, cold tombstone before.</p><p>They’re both breathing harshly. Eleanor desperately trying to make eye contact while Jason avoids it like she’s the plague.</p><p>“Please, Jaybird.” She whispers hoarsely. “You’re my brother, my <em>little</em> brother. I love you.”</p><p>The helmet drops to the floor, rolling away from the two of them, it feels louder than the storm outside. He finally meets her eyes, blinking away tears before he reaches out for her and Eleanor welcomes him with open arms. Cradling him to her as best she can. Jason's grip on her is hard, almost to the point where it’s starting to feel uncomfortable even with her armour on. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is that she’s got him, and she’d never let anything bad happen to him again. She revels in the fact that he’s here, <em>alive</em>. Warm and breathing. It’s like a weight has been lifted off her that she had no idea was there in the first place. Holding the brother she thought she lost, Eleanor doesn’t even pretend to hold back the tears that run from her eyes. Her mind takes her back to the first time he’d hugged her. It had been a nightmare, he’d dreamt of losing everyone. Bruce, Alfred, herself and Dick. Eleanor had gotten back in time to hear him wake up from outside his room, when she’d knocked he’d opened it without hesitation, throwing his arms around her and clung to her like he’s doing in this moment right now. She hugs him back just as tightly, rocking them gently, no words necessary just yet. Because her little brother is <em>alive.</em></p><p>Eventually, his arms drop from around her. Even though Eleanor doesn’t want the hug to end, she reluctantly releases him. Jason… God it’s really him, even though she can see him, feel him right there it still blows her mind that he’s right in front of her. Jason keeps his head ducked down, wiping away the remainder of the evidence of his tears as she stares at him.</p><p>“You’re being weird.” He mutters once he glances up at her.</p><p>“I can’t help it, little wing.” Eleanor murmurs, the nickname Dick had given him so long ago feeling natural on her tongue. “You’re here. Alive, it’s a…” <em>miracle.</em> “What happened? How are you…?”</p><p>Eleanor had held him after the explosion, you couldn’t just fake that. He had died, he didn’t have a pulse.</p><p>“Long story.” He says, turning his back to her, hands working to assemble his gun at record speeds. Eleanor steps around him, placing her hand on top of his to stop him from pulling it apart again. “I died.” He says, breath catching. “I died and woke up in a coffin six feet underground and had to claw my way out of it.”</p><p>More tears run down her cheeks at the vulnerable confession. His hand trebles in hers, Eleanor tightens her fingers around his.</p><p>“I don’t remember much,” Jason admits tilting his head up and glaring at the faded painted ceiling. “The first couple of months was confusing, I don’t… It’s like… trying to remember remnants of a dream. I remember eating when I was hungry, sleeping when I was tired. Taking shelter from the weather. Basic stuff. Survival instinct.”</p><p>“Then the League found me, or at least that’s what Talia told me.” Jason continues.</p><p>“What?” She says sharply, feeling white hot anger curling in her gut. Jason looks at her out of the corner of his eyes.</p><p>“What?” He echoes.</p><p>“Talia? As in Talia al Ghul?”</p><p>“The one and the same.” He replies with a shrug. She picks up a batarang from the assortment of weapons cluttering the alter and throws it so hard it impales itself into a stone pillar halfway across the room in anger.</p><p>“I was with the League for almost a year and she never once told me-…” Eleanor cuts herself off, breathing through her nose to try and calm her erratic heartbeat.</p><p>“I know.” Jason says, “I asked her not to tell you.”</p><p>For the third time this night Eleanor feels like the air has been drawn out of her lungs. Shock and betrayal, she can’t stop herself from making those exact expressions as she stares at him. Eleanor remembers all the pain she’d gone through, the time in England she’d tried to get him back, the sleepless nights, feeling sickly and weak because she couldn’t keep anything down when she ate. Pushing her family away, being ready to <em>die</em> to get him back. And now, knowing he was back the whole time and just didn’t want to see her. Letting her believe that he was dead. Letting her hurt. How could he consciously do that to her?</p><p>She must have said something because Jason’s eyes harden, and he glares at her.</p><p>“How could<em> you</em> let me die? Huh? I thought you said, ‘I’ll always protect you Jay’. But I guess that was all for show right? Do you know how many times Joker broke my bones in that fucking warehouse? How many times he thought he’d match the other cigarette scars I got from dear old dad on my arms? Or ripping my nails out, that one was always good. Then there was the crowbar, he just loved that <em>fucking</em> crowbar.”</p><p>She swears his eyes takes a sickly green colour as he speaks, but maybe it’s just her imagination or the tears obscuring her vision. His anger feels overwhelming and well deserved. How many nights had she stayed up blaming herself for just those same reason? She’d promised him that she would never let anyone hurt him, promised herself the same thing and failed him in the most horrible way imaginable.</p><p>What is she supposed to say to that? Sorry you died? Sorry I couldn’t be there when you needed me? Sorry I failed you? Words just doesn’t cut it.</p><p>Eleanor stares at him with her mouth open in shock, feeling like she’s just one step away from crumbling under his furious green eyes. Her own gaze drops to the floor, the black of his combat boots on the hard-carved stone, shame and remorse coiling in her gut to the point where she feels like she wants to throw up.</p><p>“You’re right,” she whispers hoarsely. “I-“</p><p>“Ella…”</p><p>“I-“ she sniffles. ”I promised you that I would always be there for you. And when you n-needed me most I-.” Eleanor sinks to the ground, leaning heavily against the alter behind her, drawing her knees up to her chest. Trying to find words that she’s spoken to his grave before. For a while, the only sound is her own erratic breathing, the storm clawing on the painted glass windows and droplets of rain finding their way inside. Then Jason slumps down next to her.</p><p>“I forgive you.” He breathes, “okay Ella? I forgive you. All of this, it’s not about me dying. Or that you think you failed me.”</p><p>“I did.” She interrupts him. “I did fail you, Jason. I-“</p><p>“Shut up and listen,” he grumbles. “It’s not about your guilt. It’s about that clown freak still being alive.”</p><p>Oh right… Eleanor hadn’t thought about that. And that realization, that insensitivity makes her even more ashamed. She was Jason’s sister, his <em>older</em> sister, she was supposed to be able to help him. Even if she’d thought him dead. It made sense though , Jason being angry at his killer, she imagines there wasn’t many people that actually got to get vengeance for their deaths.</p><p>“…I tried to kill him.” She admits, voice quiet.</p><p>“What?” the surprise in his voice would probably have been comical if she couldn’t feel that dark seething anger creeping up on her. Eleanor tilts her head back, staring up at the painted angels and clouds in the ceiling.</p><p>“After B brought him back to Arkham, he was beaten so badly the doctors had to keep him in intensive care for weeks. I snuck in once I got back to Gotham, confronted him.” She hasn’t thought of that night in a long time. Yet the memories are fresh in her mind.</p><p>“He was lucid, cackling like he does. I demanded to know why he did it. Like it would change anything, but he wasn’t giving me a straight answer. He just kept rambling on and on about how he killed a Robin, how he finally got one up on B. A-and I snapped.” Eleanor holds her hands out in front of herself. For a terrifying second she sees them covered in blood, then lightning arcs across the sky and lights up the interior of the church, bathing them both in pale white light.</p><p>“I wanted it to be painful, I knew how. But I’m…” She draws in a shaky breath. “I’m <em>not</em> a monster. I was going to put him down like a vet treating a mad animal. It was going to be <em>humane</em>. Nothing like <em>him</em>. Only I must have gotten the dosage wrong because he survived. Batman found me later, told me I was allowed to stay for the funeral and then he wanted me out of Gotham.”</p><p>The silence after her confession feels deafening. Eleanor had never told anyone about that dark night, except for Dick but then again, she hadn’t gone in to that much detail. The worst part was that she didn’t feel any shame about attempting it. Not even now, five years later.</p><p>“Why did you do it?” Jason eyes her with morbid curiosity.</p><p>She shrugs. “Didn’t want him hurting anyone like he hurt you again. Then of course he escaped and crippled Barbara, and all I could think was that I’d failed her too.”</p><p>“Bruce stopped you.”</p><p>“I guess.” She had thought about going back and finishing the job when she heard he’d survived. Bruce hadn’t let her out of his sight until she’d been on the plane to cross the Atlantic.</p><p>“So you can understand why I’m doing all of this?”</p><p>Eleanor tilts her head to look at him. “Do you want to kill him?” She’s not sure if he means to kill Bruce or the Joker.</p><p>Jason falters for a moment, for a second he looks so vulnerable, filled with worry and despair. Then his jaw clenches and determination replace it like a shallow mask.</p><p>“Would you try to stop me if I said yes?”</p><p>A long time ago, there had been a similar situation between Dick and Bruce, neither of them had wanted to take the other’s life of course but it felt similar in its core. She’d taken Dick’s side back then, because she loved him and she’d been sixteen, he’d been her whole world. Thinking back on it, Bruce had been terrified of losing him after Dick had gotten hurt on patrol, that’s why he’d clamped down on the rules, tightened his grip so much it had become suffocating. After Jason died, he’d pushed them all away, isolating himself to not feel that loss again. Eleanor had sworn she’d never pick sides again when it came to her family, she wanted them all to get along. To have each other’s backs, because the work they did was already dangerous enough.</p><p>Now? If she were forced to pick, she couldn’t say she’d stay impartial. Eleanor just couldn’t lose Jason again. Never again.</p><p>But could his anger really run that deep that he would feel the need of taking her father’s – their father’s, life.</p><p>“I’d be an orphan.” She murmurs instead of answering.</p><p>Jason doesn’t say anything, he sits still and tense next to her, fingers clenched into fists that she imagines if he didn’t have gloves on would be going white from the pressure.</p><p>“Do you really want to see him dead? Or do you just want to punish us?”</p><p>“Not you.” He says, “you where there, I remember that much. Saw you in that doorframe before… before the explosion. You’ve always been there, always tried. Like Alfred.”</p><p>A surge of hope flickers to life inside her. “Come home Jay,” she gets on her knees next to him, grips his arm. “Come home and we can talk, all of us.”</p><p>Jason shakes his head. “It’s not that simple.”</p><p>“It could be,” she insists.</p><p>“You honestly believe the old man would believe it’s <em>me</em>?” Doubt visible on his face.</p><p>Eleanor shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks, <em>you</em> need to talk to him. It’s for you, not him.”</p><p>“He needs to feel the same pain I felt.” Jason jerks his arm away from her grasp, standing up in front of the alter. She waits, breathing deeply to try and centre herself before she too stands next to him.</p><p>“Jason-“</p><p>“I’m not going to change my mind.”</p><p>“Whatever it is you need to do, let me help you, please.”</p><p>He glances at her out of the corner of his eyes while he picks his gun up.</p><p>“You’re just going to get in my way.”</p><p>“I won’t I promise, I’ll follow your-“ the click of a bullet being loaded into the chamber shuts her up, he turns aiming the gun at her heart.</p><p>“I said no. I don’t want to hurt you Ella, but I can’t have you interfere.”</p><p>Eleanor meets his eyes on the other side of the barrel, determined and angry eyes glare back at her, yet there’s something else too, pleading. He wants her to back down, to cave under his will. Not anger at her, but anger at the world, at Batman.</p><p>“You’re not going to shoot me.” She says, reaching up and placing her hand on the steel coloured metal. Jason lets her lower it with a sigh. “Earlier, you could have. But you didn’t.”</p><p>“It wasn’t even loaded.” He admits. “But it wasn’t the point either. And I can’t have you warning anyone.”</p><p>“I’m not going to.” She steps closer. “I just want to be there for you Jay, like I promised I would.”</p><p>For a moment doubt plays in his eyes, before they soften, and Eleanor recognises the calm look he meets her eyes with. The one he used to give her while they’d read in the manor library, or after an intense sparring session. The one that let her know that he trusted her, that Jason counted her as family. A hesitant smile works its way up on her lips, Jason doesn’t smile back but he wraps an arm around her and pulls her tightly against him.</p><p>“I’m sorry, sis.” He says and pulls the trigger.</p><p>A gasp leaves her lips that is more surprise than anything else. Before her thigh flares in red hot pain. She wants yell and curse his name but before she can do either of those Jason catches her as Eleanor’s leg gives out underneath her, slowly sitting her down on the floor. Disbelievingly she stares up at him with her upper thigh feeling like it’s on fire.</p><p>“What the hell Jason!” Eleanor breathes out through clenched teeth, confused as to <em>how</em> he could shoot her.</p><p>“There’s a first aid kit over on that pew,” he says, gesturing with the gun he’s just shot her with. “The bullet is still in there so you’re going to have to dig it out, it’ll give me enough of a head start.”</p><p>“Don’t do this.” Eleanor grips her thigh to stem the bleeding. “Jason!”</p><p>“The signal disruptor will stop working in ten minutes.” He continues calmly as if she’s not shouting at him, taking all of the gear placed on the alter and stowing it away in his jacket pockets. “You can call Bigbird and have him remote drive something to pick you up. Oh and, tell him I’m sorry I shot him too.”</p><p>“Jason!” Eleanor snaps again.</p><p>He looks at her over his shoulder. “I need to do this, Ella.”</p><p>“You don’t have to do it alone!” She insists, desperately clinging for the last bit of doubt that still plays in his eyes. “Let me help you Jay.” It doesn’t have to be like this, they don’t have to fight each other.</p><p>He turns and leaves, giving her a two-finger salute before pulling the red helmet over his head. She calls his name again, even as he disappears behind a corner and the echoing noise of his footsteps fade with another crack of lightning in the sky.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry not sorry :D<br/>Thank you for reading!<br/>Chapter title is lyrics from "The Other Side" by Ruelle.<br/>Also! I listened to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NRcmtPVxrBU">this</a> while writing this chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Head in the dust, feet in the fire Labour on that midnight wire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>“Damn you Jason Peter Todd.” Eleanor spits out, tearing the first aid kit open. “Of all the things you could have done, why fucking shoot me?!” She continues her furious rambling, tearing the cloth around the wound. At least the bastard hadn’t made a complete mess of things, her armour would be easy to fix and the wound itself was clean, even with the bullet still lodged in there. And fuck Eleanor was messed up, because despite the pain of being shot, she was still rolling on the high of happiness of finding out that <em>her little brother</em> was alive. With another pained grumble she roots through the kit, if she were fast enough maybe she’d be able to catch up with him. Park Row wasn’t too far away from the church she was in, if it was the right church. It would make sense for him to try and lure Bruce there, that’s where they met after all. End it where it started, poetic if nothing else. Then again it was <em>Jason</em>, he’d always had a flair for the dramatics.</p><p>She grabs the stainless-steel tongs from the kit after removing her gloves, making sure to douse both the item and wound in antiseptic – and bites back the whimper of pain as the chemical burns her wound. There’s no exit wound, which is kind of nice, she’d have a real hard time trying to stitch up the back of her thigh. Not impossible but would take way to long, and would be messy, with no mirror. She draws in a sharp breath and starts to hunt for the bullet, her vision keeps blurring from tears of pain, yet it doesn’t take too long for her to actually get the small piece of metal out. She's mildly greatful that it hadn't shattered, and that he hadn't hit bone.</p><p>Wiping away some of the excess blood she digs out the needle and thread, and with another shaky inhale she starts sowing the wound together, having to stop several times to tuck her hair away from her eyes, the blood stuck to her cheek , hair and ear probably makes her look way more injured than she is. By the time she’s closed the wound her both thigh and fingers tremble from pain, but she can’t even take a minute to rest. Because every minute she spends here is another minute lost trying to stop Jason from doing something he’ll regret. Lastly she grabs the bandage from the kit and wraps it around her thigh, biting through another muffled groan of pain when she ties it a tad too tightly. By the time she’s done it’s been eleven minutes, so she taps her comm alive – trusting Jason’s word without a second thought – and is rewarded by not having that horrible feedback pierce through her brain again.</p><p><em>“Ellie?!”</em> Dick’s voice calls out as soon as it connects back to the cave, she wants to chastise him – <em>codenames dear</em> – but all that comes out is a slightly hysterical laugh that she muffles by pressing her bloodied fingers against her mouth. Dick says something else that she doesn’t hear as for a terrifying second her vision goes blurry and she feels like she’s going to faint.</p><p>
  <em>“-appened? Eleanor?!”</em>
</p><p>“I’m okay.” Eleanor gasps out. “Dick, it’s Jay, it’s Jason.” She pulls her gloves on and stands, immediately her left leg wants to give out on her, yet she takes a step forward. Limping towards the exit that Jason had taken through pained grunts.</p><p>There’s no reply on the other end of the comm, and she thinks that maybe he hadn’t heard her, then he speaks.</p><p>“… <em>What?”</em></p><p>“Red Hood,” she breathes. “It’s Jay.”</p><p><em>“Eleanor…”</em> The tone is familiar, filled with empathy and pity. She makes a noise of protest at the back of her throat.</p><p>“It really is him,” another laugh slips from her lips, and part of her thinks that if someone else were acting like she was and talking about their supposedly dead sibling, she too might not believe it either. “God, Dickie, he fucking shot me. But it’s him.”</p><p>
  <em>“You’re hurt?”</em>
</p><p>“I stitched myself up. Jay left a first aid kit.”</p><p><em>“… Eleanor,”</em> Dick tries again, <em>“Jason is dead.”</em></p><p>“Was.” Oh God she really does sound crazy. “He was, I know how it sounds but please baby, I need you to believe me. He’s out to kill Joker, and maybe even B.”</p><p>
  <em>“You’re sure? I got a ping form B’s suit earlier, his comm is busted but he’s alive.”</em>
</p><p>“I know, Jay told me.”</p><p>Another pause, Eleanor throws the doors to the church open and there’s that slight warm prideful feeling in her chest for being right, glad that even though she’d let her detective skills take a backline with her focus on her coursework, she still got it. She recognizes the street and Park Row was maybe five minutes away, on a good day. But she couldn’t slow down now.</p><p><em>“You really think it’s Jason?”</em> Dick murmurs in her ear. <em>“How is that even possible?”</em></p><p>“He didn’t go into a lot of details.” She huffs, pulling herself up onto a building even as the rain beats down on her. “He mentioned Talia, which leads me to believe a Lazarus pit was involved.”</p><p>
  <em>“That… A pit? But the pit doesn’t bring back the dead, it only restores the living.”</em>
</p><p>“Something else then, but I swear. It’s him.”</p><p>
  <em>“Clayface?”</em>
</p><p>“Too much knowledge.”</p><p>
  <em>“Ra’s.”</em>
</p><p>“How? He’s an adult, D-“ Another shock of pain makes her stumble, and also stops her from blurting out Dick’s name into the open, “-Wing” she corrects. “He’s… It’s really him okay? I can’t explain it, not now at least. But it’s him, I know it’s him.”</p><p><em>“You’re certain?”</em> Dick still sounds uncertain, and honestly she doesn’t blame him. She had just told him she was injured, and blood loss could wreak havoc on the brain. And with her history of PTSD and <em>seeing her dead little brother</em> like he was real in front of her, Eleanor too would have been doubtful.</p><p>“Yeah, the things he knew. The small, unimportant details that wouldn’t matter to anyone else.”</p><p>
  <em>“Okay, I believe you.”</em>
</p><p>“You do?” Her voice raises a pitch, she hadn’t expected it.</p><p><em>“Of course,” </em>Dick sounds like he’s smiling. <em>“No lies remember?”</em></p><p>“I mean yeah, but…” She aims her grapple and leaps, grunting when she lands on the other side of a too wide gap to jump on her own. “I mean, I thought you’d believe that <em>I</em> believe it, you know?”</p><p>
  <em>“I trust your judgement, pretty bird.”</em>
</p><p>“But there’s no evidence.”</p><p>
  <em>“Yeah.”</em>
</p><p>“No hard facts.”</p><p>
  <em>“Uh-huh.”</em>
</p><p>“Why am I trying to convince you otherwise?”</p><p>
  <em>“No idea, babe.”</em>
</p><p>Eleanor feels misty eyed at the display of trust, her lips turns up in a smile. Then shakes her head, couldn’t get distracted now.</p><p>“If I’m right he’s trying to lure Batman into some sort of trap.” In the distance lightning flashes in the sky followed by the muted roar of thunder. Eleanor winces trough her pain, desperately trying to up her pace. Alfred is going to be so very angry with her later, the patchwork stitches, pushing herself past her limits. She’s not looking forward to it, maybe he won’t chew her out too badly if she brings Jason back with her.</p><p><em>“I’m tracking B’s suit in the direction you’re going.”</em> Dick’s voice is a bit strained, she hopes that all the pained noises she’s making isn’t coming through the mic, that the rain dampens it just a little, to keep him from worrying too much. <em>“Just… Please be careful.”</em></p><p>She scales a sloped roof, nearly sliding back down it because of how slippery it is from the rain, having to heave herself up the last bit. Lying on her back on she pants from exertion, the bandage around her thigh is wet, her domino feels like it’s going to fall off any moment, and her limbs may follow suit.</p><p>“I’m okay.” She says tasting the rain, not sure if she’s talking to herself or Dick. Struggling back on her feet, she almost falls when her knee buckles under her weight, just barely managing to stabilize herself with the help of a ventilation pipe.</p><p>Eleanor rounds a corner building and sees them across the roof, Bruce without his cowl and utility belt. Jason with no helmet, and a red domino covering his eyes. A domino like the one he used to wear. They’re fighting hard, no pulled punches, only aggression and the next move. It has a reckless feel to it, more primal and emotional then the normal styles that she’d expect from both of them. For a second she wonders who <em>else</em> trained Jason, it looks way more brutal than anything even Bruce had taught them.</p><p>“Stop!” She shouts, it’s drowned out by the rain and thunder. None of them seem to hear her. Despite Jason being younger and despite how well trained he’s gotten over the years, it still looks like Bruce is winning. How could he even have let it go this far? Bruce is supposed to be Jason’s <em>father</em>, the only one true role model that Jason had while growing up. It’s not supposed to be like this. Eleanor scrambles over the last gap separating her from her little brother and father as Jason takes another punch to the mouth that leaves him with a split lip and spitting out blood as he laughs. He looks unhinged.</p><p>“Stop!” She calls again, this time closer. Bruce falters when he hears her, and it’s all the distraction that Jason needs to give their father an equally nasty split lip. Returning Bruce’s attention to the younger man.</p><p>“Get out of here!” Bruce growls, she’s unsure if it’s aimed at her or Jason. Bruce prepares to once again engage in this stupid fight that could just have been avoided if any of them had stopped to talk or stopped to <em>listen,</em> and Eleanor feels her feet moving before she can think of what she’s going to do. The split second before Bruce’s fist would have collided with Jason’s shoulder she tackles him to the ground. Batman responds immediately to the new threat, he goes to defend himself – Eleanor can’t even blame him for that, but falters mid punch and it gives her enough time to kick him straight into the bat symbol on his chest. And God it hurts her wounded thigh, as it sends Bruce flying off the side of the building. She immediately feels bad for doing it, even if Bruce knew exactly how to get back up from that kind of fall, and the building was high enough that he’d have enough time to adjust the grapple that Eleanor manages to slip him just he goes tumbling.</p><p>She’s panting by the time she gets on to her hands and knees, the bandage around her thigh is red, tearing her stitches? Check. Possibly pissing her dad off? Check. Saving her little brother? TBD.</p><p>“Why would you do that?” Jason questions sounding incredulous as he stares at her. “I shot you.”</p><p>“I keep him busy while you run.” She murmurs half under her breath, sitting back on her legs and looks up at him. “Our Pinky Swear, remember?”</p><p>Jason’s shoulders and jaw drop, even with the domino on she can tell he’s staring at her in astonishment. She’d never forgotten the promise she made him all those years ago when they first met. A cosy diner dockside of Amusement Mile, he’d eaten everything he ordered and like half of her own fries, half-starved after living on the streets for so long. Though at the time Jason had known nothing of their night-time activities, she’d asked him to give her a week to prove he wouldn’t regret staying with them, and promised that if he still wanted to leave by the end of it, she’d distract Bruce so he could make a run for it.</p><p>“Go,” she says, heaving herself up to her feet as the heavy ‘<em>thunk’</em> of the grapple hook connecting with the concrete of the building, Eleanor walks up to it, she looks at her little brother over her shoulder. “I’ll hold him off.”</p><p>“Ella…”</p><p>“No names in costumes, Jaybird. It’s Blackbird.”</p><p>“I still don’t get why.” He blurts out, still not moving.</p><p>Eleanor smiles at him, and says, “because we’re family.” Like it’s the most obvious thing ever.</p><p>Jason lets out a low disbelieving noise while shaking his head, then <em>finally</em> turns and runs just as Bruce appears in front of her, cowl still down, looking like hell incarnate. Her father looks over her shoulder and Eleanor tenses, prepared to give Jason time to get away. She doesn’t have any great illusions that she could actually take down Batman, injured as she is. Even if she weren’t, she kind of doubted that she could. She had a life outside crimefighting, not that she wasn’t dedicated, but she didn’t spend every night patrolling. The only reason she’d managed to kick him off the building was because he’d hesitated when he’d seen her. He wouldn’t make that mistake twice.</p><p>“Get out of my way.” He says, blue eyes returning to stare her down.</p><p>“I can’t do that.”</p><p>“You’re siding with him?”</p><p>“It’s my little brother, dad. It’s your son.” Her tone is soft, even though she’s tense in preparation for a fight.</p><p>Bruce’s jaw clenches, he doesn’t say anything even as pain flickers to life in his eyes.</p><p>“Call it a miracle, or-...” She swallows thickly, still not moving, even with the painful throbbing of her thigh. “Or something, but it’s him.”</p><p>“That’s-” He stops, cutting himself off.</p><p>“Impossible?” Eleanor continues softly. “Superman came back. Green Arrow came back. Magic exists, you of all people should know that nothing is impossible.” She won’t mention Lazarus pits just yet, that wouldn’t go over well. Still, Eleanor doubted that she would be able to just convince him like this. They were both logical creatures, Bruce more so than her. He needed evidence, he needed it to make sense, scientifically.</p><p>“It can’t be him.”</p><p>“Why not? Please dad, I’m not asking you to stop investigating. I’m asking you to trust me, to believe in my instincts. It’s <em>him</em>. I know it is.”</p><p>By now Jason should be far enough away to be able safely disappear. They all knew how, if they didn’t want to be found. They wouldn’t be. Eleanor straightens out of her defensive posture, hissing out a sharp breath when her wound stings in reminder of what had happened. It doesn’t go unnoticed.</p><p>“You’re hurt.” He says.</p><p>“I’ll be okay.” Eleanor replies, she doesn’t try to protest when Bruce steps closer to wrap an arm around her waist to let her lean against him. The weight being taken of her left leg feels so much better than standing on it. Eleanor hadn’t realised how blurry her vision had gotten until now, how hard her heart is beating in her chest and how elevated her breathing had become.</p><p>“You believe me.” She mumbles feeling lightheaded and disoriented, when had they gotten out of the rain? The hum of the batmobile’s engine and electrical equipment is comforting and familiar. And so is the warmth of the interior.</p><p>“I’m prioritizing. You’re wounded, you need medical attention.”</p><p>“It’s really Jason, daddy.” Eleanor must have lost more blood than she thought, she hadn’t called him that since she was a little girl.</p><p>When Bruce doesn’t reply her head lolls to the side, staring at him through heavy lidded eyes.</p><p>“I believe you believe that.”</p><p>Oh the irony.</p><p>“He knew things only the two of us knew.” She murmurs, tears suddenly welling out of her eyes. Eleanor sniffles as she removes her domino. “He’s hurting, and he’s angry that the Joker is still alive.”</p><p>“He also shot Dick and has killed throughout the city, there are no excuses for that, not even being angry at the world. Murder is murder.” Oh, that’s why he doesn’t want to believe that it’s Jason. Bruce doesn’t want to think that any protégé of his would break his precious rules, is that it? But even before Jason had died he’d always had a short temper, fought roughly. Breaking bones when he didn’t need to. Now? It’s been five years, who knows what he’s gone through that has made him to what he is.</p><p>And it shouldn’t matter, he’s still family. And family accepted each other, or at least tried their fucking best to help each other.</p><p>“Shot me too.” She mutters, “you don’t see me holding a grudge.”</p><p>Bruce’s hands tighten on the steering wheel.</p><p>“’sides,” she continues mostly under hear breath, Bruce hears her anyway, “he’s only killed criminals.”</p><p>“That doesn’t make him less of a murderer.”</p><p>“It’s still Jay, under all the hurt. Under all the anger. He deserves us listening with our hearts, not lashing out with our fists.”</p><p>“If it is-“</p><p>“It is.”</p><p>“<em>If </em>it is him.” Bruce says, shooting a glare at her for interrupting him. “If it is him then we’ll…” He trails off, jaw again clenching.</p><p>“We’ll?”</p><p>“I’m still going to run tests.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“And if it’s positive.” For a moment Eleanor swears that he looks lost. Like he has no clue what he’ll do if it turns out that it is in fact Jason, that his lost son has come back to haunt him.</p><p>Then determination sets in. “If it’s positive he’ll stop killing in my city or get out. And if he doesn’t I’ll send him to Blackgate like any other criminal.”</p><p>She doesn’t even have words. Of all things that he could have said… Eleanor shakes her head, turning away from him with a scoff.</p><p>“I won’t lose him again.” She breathes out after a long pause with the only noise being the smatter of rain against the window and the low hum of the car. They pass through the hidden pathway leading to the cave. “Remember that before you drive him away. If you force him out I’ll go with him.”</p><p>So much for not taking sides.</p><p>The car rolls to a stop, Bruce doesn’t move, and Eleanor feels like she might suffocate from the tense silence. She pushes the door open and steps outside, only to have her leg give out from under her. Alfred appears a second later, he doesn’t say anything as he gently helps her up to the medical area where Dick’s waiting. She imagines that he would be pacing if he weren’t injured. Once she’s sat down on the medical table Dick takes Alfred’s place, face scrounged up in worry.</p><p>“You-“</p><p>She silences him by pulling him in by his shoulders, Dick almost stumbles forward and the crutches he’d been leaning on clatters to the ground as he wraps his arms around her. Eleanor buries her face against his neck, her gloved fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie. The adrenalin from the last hour wears out and hits her like a freight train. Guilt, joy and worry all mixing together in a complicated lump of emotions that Eleanor has no idea how to try and untangle. She doesn’t quite realize she’s trembling until he combs her hair back and hushes her gently. Tears well up in her eyes and is soaked up by Dick’s clothes. How she got more tears to shed, she doesn’t know, she feels exhausted. He continues to comb through her hair, slowly undoing her braid. It’s so soothing she almost forgets for a moment that Alfred is right there. Until the butler quietly clears his throat. As if he doesn’t really want to disturb the peaceful moment.</p><p>“Your wound, Miss.”</p><p>Eleanor sniffles, reaching up to remove the remaining of her tears with her fingers as she pulls away from Dick.</p><p>“Yeah, sorry Alfred, thank you.”</p><p>Dick shifts away from her slightly on one leg and another pang of guilt runs through her for making him stand up without support.</p><p>“I got it, Alfie.” He says, offering the older man a smile. Alfred only nods, walks off and returns a second later with a plastic chair for Dick to sit on. Then scoots the tray of sterilized medical equipment closer and leaves with another short polite nod.</p><p>Like last night, only the other way around, Dick helps her out of her suit, until she’s sat only in a black sports bra and yoga shorts on the exam table, her wound looks terrible. Stitches torn and clotted with blood. Dick gently starts to clean it out with water, the soft, carful touches still sends sparks of pain throughout her leg, yet she doesn’t move at all. The pain feels better than the maelstrom of <em>hurt-worry-anguish </em>that still hasn't left her.</p><p>“I thought I could reach him.” She murmurs quietly, and even then it sounds too loud next to the hum of the medical equipment. “I thought I was getting through to him and I let my guard down. I never thought he’d actually…” Eleanor exhales softly, swallowing back another onset of tears.</p><p>“…Jason did this?” Dick asks, removing the broken stitches with years of practised care.</p><p>Eleanor nods. “He… He thought there was no other choice. It was to slow me down. He also said that he was sorry he shot you.”</p><p>Dick’s lips twitch into half a smile that’s too sharp to be real, “I guess we match now.”</p><p>“I’d rather he hadn’t,” she says through her teeth as Dick applies some antiseptic to the wound. “For obvious reasons.”</p><p>He hums. “It’s like mine though, minimal damage.”</p><p>That had been her assessment too, like Jason hadn’t wanted to hurt them, only get them out of the way. It hadn’t been about Dick or her at all, only about isolating Bruce. Without saying anything else, Dick grabs the numbing salve and starts to gently rub it in around the wound, it feels cold on her skin and after giving it a moment to start working he starts to sow the wound close. The only feeling she get is mildly tingling, like pins and needles in her thigh. Once he’s done with the needle, he applies the sterile gauze over the wound and takes his hoodie off to drape it across her shoulders. Eleanor burrows into the warm fabric.</p><p>“Tell me everything.” Dick says.</p><p>Eleanor doesn’t know where to start, it takes so long for her to get her thoughts together that she half expects him to get impatient. Yet when she finally does begin explaining everything that happened Dick just silently sits there and listens. She can’t quite stop herself from crying again, and Dick gently takes her hand in his as she stammers through the sentence of realization that Jason was actually alive. That it was him and he had been standing right in front of her just as Dick is at this moment. They had gotten another chance with him. And that she’d begged Jason not to go through with his plans but that he was so filled with anger and hurt that he couldn’t see through the miasma of pain. When she stops speaking, Dick’s eyes are wet too, he drags in an unsteady breath through his lips.</p><p>“It really is him.”</p><p>She nods and Dick stands up to wrap her in another bone crushing hug, she seeks out the warmth of him like a moth to flame, nuzzling against his neck and breathing in the familiar calming scent of home.</p><p>“We’ll get him back home.” Dick murmurs, lips brushing against her temple. “I promise, we’ll get him home.”</p><p>Eleanor nods against his neck again, clinging to his clothes. A wave of calm and appreciation follows his words. She’s so thankful that he believes her, that he doesn’t make her feel crazy for following her gut like this. For having blind faith that they could help Jason.</p><p>“You’re freezing,” he says then, hands rubbing up and down her arms. She honestly hadn’t noticed, Eleanor had thought her trembling was from adrenaline comedown and the emotional rollercoaster she’d been through today.</p><p>“I just wanna sleep.” She murmurs, still leaning against him.</p><p>“C’mon.” He says, easing her onto her feet and wrapping her arm around his shoulder, she makes a protesting noise as they both start limping towards the upper area. They pass by the computer where Bruce and Alfred are stood. Alfred’s got a passive look on his face, yet she can – even from this distance tell from the slight tension in his shoulders that he’s very unhappy with the turn of events. Jason had been close to Alfred, they had shared so many interests, a different type of closeness from their relationship.</p><p>The metal floor is cold against her bare feet and the air isn’t much warmer, yet Eleanor can’t help but linger. She doesn’t want to fight with Bruce, despite how stubborn of cold he might come off as, she <em>knows </em>deep down that he cares. So much in fact that it’s easier for him to shut it all out, no one like hurting. Bruce wasn’t immune to that rule. Eleanor wants to go over there and tell him why she’s doing what she’s doing. Why she was so quick to believe that it’s really Jason. Make him understand her point of view. And another part of her want to leave him to his melancholy, wants to dare him to pursue this line of thoughts and see how far it pushes her away. Wants to know what really mattered most to him, the mission or his family.</p><p>If Dick notices her indecision he doesn’t mention it, when they reach the lift he leans them both against the back wall, hand never once leaving her side. It’s a slow and painful trudge through the manor up to his old room – it’s closer than hers from the stairs. The warmth is more welcoming however and once they get into his (surprisingly) clean room and close the door behind them it feels like she’s going to liquify right there on the spot. He sets her down on the edge of the bed then moves away to root through the small box on his desk.</p><p>“You don’t have to do that.” She murmurs when he comes back, sitting down lightly behind her and starts combing through her hair with a hair brush Eleanor is fairly certain belongs to her.</p><p>“I know.” Dick replies, his fingernails scrape gently against her scalp making goosebump appear on her arms. She allows his hoodie to slip from her shoulders and bunches the fabric up on her lap, running her fingers over the washed-out black and blue cloth. He keeps brushing through her hair even as all the tangles are smoothed out before tucking it over one shoulder, leaning his forehead against the other. Eleanor feels his warm breath on her skin as they just breathe in silence. She closes her eyes, trying to stay in the moment and not let her mind wander, focusing on Dick’s soft breathing and the gentle caress of the tips of his fingers against the inside of her arm. He moves his hand up, until he’s tickling the palm of her hand, then slots their fingers together, palm against palm. Then he leans forward, lacing their fingers together and rests his chin on her shoulder, Eleanor tilts her head, eyes still closed and leans against him. It feels peaceful and calm, being here with him. Sheltered from the storm still raging outside the window, and the storm she knows is brewing in their hearts.</p><p>It wasn't over, not by a long shot, and Eleanor wouldn't stop until Jason knew that he would always be welcomed back with them. That they all loved him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Jason is a little shit, but also smol and precious &lt;3<br/>Thank you all for sticking with me! And the comments and kudos make my day every time I see the notification :D<br/>Chapter is named by <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Ek9n7B14w8">'Carry You'</a> by Ruelle, which is also what I was listening to on repeat while writing this chapter!<br/>Stay safe out there &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Everything could stay the same, or we could change it all</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>“Explain everything that happened.” Bruce says as soon as she sits down in front of him. Alfred doesn’t say a word yet his ever-vigilant eyes pierce Bruce with a look that says ‘manners’ and makes her father clear his throat. “Please.” He adds.</p><p>Placing down the white and blue delicate china set that has been with the family for generations in front of her father, Alfred then does the same to her and fills it up with steaming tea.</p><p>“Thank you,” she murmurs. Feeling a bit smug at Alfred’s nodding approval. Bruce waits semi patiently as Alfred fills up the latter’s cup, and then gives his own nod of thanks. Eleanor half wonders, as she places her own cup back down and leans back slightly into the afternoon sun shining through the large dining room windows, how long can she draw it out before Bruce loses his patience? It’s a tempting and very childish thought. One she shouldn’t entertain because the reason as to why she’d agreed to this whole thing was to smooth things out between them. Dick had been very adamant that they needed to have a talk, <em>outside</em> of the cave. Why he thought that he could get a free pass, Eleanor didn’t know. But at least Dick had managed to convince Alfred to mediate.</p><p>Which in hindsight, was probably a good thing, since if there was someone Bruce listened to, it was the old butler. At least seventy percent of the time.</p><p>“I already explained what happened.” She finally says. “Jason subdued me-“</p><p>“By drugging you.”</p><p>Her lips twitch in annoyance. “And brought me to that old church in the Bowery.”</p><p>“Where he shot you.”</p><p>Eleanor's fingers clench in her lap, she stares at the blue and white china like it’s personally offended her. “Yes. He shot me.” Maybe she shouldn’t defend Jason’s actions, maybe she should be furious at him for shooting her, for shooting Dick. But she’s not. Obviously, Eleanor doesn’t like being shot, who does? But she understood why he’d done it. Getting her and Dick out of the way, isolating Bruce so he could confront him alone.</p><p>“And you think this is something a sane man would do.”</p><p>“Jason is not insane.” Eleanor snaps back quickly. “He’s hurting, and I think he’s trying to talk to you in the only way you both know.” By violence. She doesn’t say it, but the point comes across anyway. And violence had been Jason’s life for a long time, even before he lived at the manor. So it wasn’t like she could only blame Bruce for it, he’d tried to teach Jason martial arts to temper his anger and taking him out on the streets to fight crime to expose that anger to people who deserved it. It had been both the best and worst decision he’d ever made. Because Jason needed an outlet for his anger at the world yet being Robin had only added more fuel to the fire.</p><p>Bruce leans both his elbows against the table, rubbing at his temples, he hasn’t touched his cup.</p><p>“The DNA samples confirm it’s…” He clears his throat. “Confirm it’s Jason.”</p><p>“But you’re still uncertain, aren’t you?” She doesn’t meet his eyes, instead she distracts herself by breaking apart one of the chocolate chip cookies.</p><p>Bruce’s silence is answer enough.</p><p>“Can’t you at least try to see past what he wants you to see?”</p><p>“Which is?”</p><p>“Oh come on!” She finally raises her voice loudly enough that Alfred looks at her, and she immediately feels herself deflate from the sudden burst of angry disbelief. Bruce is acting like she hadn’t already told him <em>why </em>Jason is doing what he’s doing. Eleanor purses her lips. “It always comes back to the Joker. Jason is pissed – and rightly so, that he’s still alive.”</p><p>“I don’t kill.” Bruce says firmly.</p><p>“I would have.”</p><p>“You would want a life on your conscience? Even one as vile as Jokers?”</p><p>She would like to say yes immediately. She hadn’t hesitated five years ago, but now…? Eleanor is still angry about Jason having to go through it all, and all the other out-right evil things that Joker have done throughout the years. Yet… she talks a big game, but if it came down to it, her against the clown? She doesn’t know if she could take his life.</p><p>“I would like for Barbara not to be paralyzed from the waist down. I would like the thousands of graves Joker as filled up not to be there.” She brings the cup to her lips to stop herself from going on a rant. She’s voiced her thoughts a thousand times over by now.</p><p>“I know.” Bruce sighs. “Believe me I know.”</p><p>“Look we… We’ll probably have this discussion until the day we retire.” She murmurs, offering her father a small smile that he returns. Though his is grim, and Eleanor knows that for him this isn’t something you retire from, it’s until death do us part. And that thought is almost as terrifying as Jason not returning home. “I’m not saying you should go right now and kill the Joker, I respect your morals and rules even though I don’t agree with all of them.”</p><p><em>Hypocrite</em>. Her mind screams at her. She doesn’t want blood on her hands yet would see Joker dead from someone else’s.</p><p>Bruce hums, gesturing for her to continue as he finally takes a sip of his tea.</p><p>“I just think that maybe you two should talk.” Eleanor looks at him, then back at the cooling tea. “Without your fists, without judgement and expectations. As Bruce and Jason, not Batman and Red Hood.”</p><p>“You think that he would agree to that?”</p><p>“Now?” Eleanor shakes her head. “No, but maybe you should be ready to when Jason is.”</p><p>He hums again nodding slowly, the room filling with silence that feels less tense than it did moments ago. Bruce then does something she doesn’t expect. He gently places his hand over hers on the table, Eleanor’s eyes snap up to meet his.</p><p>“If I could take away all the pain that all you kids have gone through, I would.”</p><p>Eleanor swallows past the sudden burst of emotion that threatens to spill out of her, turning her hand to hold his. “You can’t.” And even if he could, the pain made them into the people they are now, stronger yet broken, held together by sheer will and the love they had for each other. Like a Kintsugi bowl, the broken pieces lined back together with gold.</p><p>Her father holds her hand tighter in his grip.</p><p>Out of the corner of her eye she sees Alfred smile while he’s pretending to be busy doing something else. She doesn’t know if Bruce will take anything they’ve spoken about to heart, but Bruce isn’t as cold as he’d like for people to believe. Maybe trying would be enough. Maybe, trying to explain to Jason that they didn’t care about the how’s and why’s as long as he came back home, where he belonged.</p><p>She hoped that Bruce thought the same.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>A whole week passes after the showdown on the roofs of Park Row with nothing but the normal criminal activity that Gotham is used to by now. Dick and her both decide to stay at the manor for the time being, she can do most of her coursework at home thanks to benevolent teachers. (It <em>might</em> be influenced by the heavy Wayne Enterprises donation the school get every year), but she’d rather think that it’s because her teachers are nice. It also helps to stay away from people who would ask too many questions about their injuries. Which is healing nicely, while staying off their feet helps, both of them start feeling that itch to put on their suits again by the end of the week. Alfred’s passing comment of kneecapping them both to make them stay put makes it quite compelling not to go down to the cave though.</p><p>Even if all Eleanor wants to do is to go out there and find Jason. Especially when Bruce tells her that there’s been no sight of him, or the mess with Black Mask that he’d stirred up.</p><p>The second night after Alfred finally allows them out (–only with bracers!) Eleanor gets an idea to lure Jason out. Which leads her to carefully placing the glass container she’d brought with her in the little nook by Jason’s favourite gargoyle. The large demon looking thing with its broken arm and cracked wing, for as long as she can remember he’s always come back to this spot, one way or another. Eleanor doesn’t stick around, as soon as the container is secure she leaps off the building to catch up to Dick and continue their patrol.</p><p>The next night she goes back and the glass container – previously filled with Alfred’s lasagne, is empty and cleaned, tucked into the corner almost just the way she’d left it. There’s no note, nothing to indicate that it had been moved to begin with, except the food being gone.</p><p>The next night she leaves spaghetti bolognaise that Alfred had made extra – the butler watchful eyes had quickly figured out what she was up to and left a book next to the prepared meal. No notes, just a thin book that Eleanor had seen Alfred read during the week. She delivers it to the secret spot by wrapping the book up in plastic, not trusting the weather to be stable and keep the book from getting wet. And the night after when she swoops back up to the gargoyle there’s a note left with the book, addressed to Alfred. Even though she’s curious about it, Eleanor does respect people’s privacy. Alfred gets a bit misty eyed when he reads it later that same night.</p><p>It continues for another week, food and books being delivered, most of the time it’s Alfred’s books that she places into that little nook, but Jason leaves some short novellas addressed to Alfred. It makes her feel happy, even if she’s just basically acting like a glorified delivery girl. All Eleanor really wants is for Jason not to isolate himself, to think that they don’t want him. <em>(She starts leaving little post-it-notes along with Alfred’s food and books, writing down small stuff like how her day has been, she doesn’t get any replies but that’s okay.)</em> At least if she keeps telling herself that maybe it’ll hurt less.</p><p>~</p><p>She’s just put down her book on advanced robotics when Dick speaks up for the first time since they went to relax on the couch in one of the downstairs TV rooms.</p><p>“He’s cute.” He says, almost making her jump. Eleanor blinks up at him from where she’s got her head in his lap.</p><p>“Who’s cute?”</p><p>Dick gestures to the TV and sees a brief glimpse of a man on it just before the camera changes to someone else. Eleanor huffs a small laugh.</p><p>“How can you even watch these things?” She’s fairly certain it’s some sort of dating show, mindless TV drama, brain rotting stuff. Dick curls his fingers through her hair in contemplation.</p><p>“It’s distracting,” he replies after a couple of seconds, glancing at her before returning his attention back to the TV. “Their issues feel more simple, like ‘Oh I wonder if he-or-she likes me’ rather than ‘gee I wonder when that guy from our case is going to slip up so we can get some actual evidence on his trafficking ring.’” Then he grins and adds, “that and people on TV are usually very pretty.”</p><p>Eleanor hums, she hadn’t really thought about it that way. But it made sense to want to block out the evils of the world that they so frequently encountered. “Who was the cute one again?” She murmurs, properly paying attention to the TV now.</p><p>“That one.” Dick points when the guy pops back into frame. The guy who is lean built with strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes, talking about another contestant that he fancies. She almost snorts out a laugh, <em>of course</em> <em>it’s the almost red head.</em></p><p>“Should I be worried about this red headed thing you got going?” She teases lightly. “Want me to dye my hair red?”</p><p>Dick rolls his eyes, used to the teasing by now. They’ve had this conversation before, with his history of partners, Kori, Roy, Barbara. She finds it hilarious that it’s always redheads, Dick pretends not to know what she’s talking about. <em>Eleanor </em>did<em> try on a red wig for an undercover op once, Dick had flushed a pretty pink and after the mission was done he hadn’t been able to keep his hands to himself.</em></p><p>“I guess he’s got nice eyes.” She adds, a bit thoughtful.</p><p>“Should <em>I </em>be worried about your infatuation of blue eyes?” He fires back grinning.</p><p>“Of course not.” She replies smoothly without missing a beat, “not when yours are the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” Dick looks down again, grin spreading across his face.</p><p>“Yeah?” He says, propping her up so that Eleanor only has to tilt her head a little to meet his lips in a soft kiss. “Flatterer.” He murmurs against her lips, then presses close for another kiss, fingers curling in her hair. It’s increasingly difficult to keep kissing him when both of them are fighting off smiles. His thumb brushing the bare skin of her hip as the shirt she’s got on keeps dragging up.</p><p>“You know,” Dick murmurs when they eventually part to breathe, his nose brushing against her cheek. “You don’t have to keep stealing my shirts right?”</p><p>“You love it.” Eleanor teases, shifting her shoulder enough so that the shirt’s collar slides away to reveal the large hickey he’d left there just this morning when she’d first put the shirt on. They hadn’t left their room until close to noon. “Besides it’s comfy and smells like you.”</p><p>He huffs out an amused breath, lips once again moving over her skin, before he tilts her head with a gentle hand, capturing her lips in another unhurried, almost lazy kiss. Eleanor manages to wiggle her arm free to wrap around his shoulders. Her eyes closed as she enjoys how soft and pliable Dick’s lips feels against her own. Making out with him always has a tendency to make her melt into a puddle, it makes her feel warm and vulnerable and treasured. The way his arms cage her against him yet at the same time make her feel free as a bird. His love, overpowering and humbling. It’s paradoxical, simple and complicated all at once.</p><p>Eleanor pulls back, opening her eyes and caressing his kiss swollen lips with her thumb. Dick’s eyes remain closed, leaning into her touch. “Thank you.” She murmurs.</p><p>“What for?” He breathes back, eyes still closed.</p><p>“For letting me love you.” <em>For believing in me, for sticking with me and a hundred other things, but mainly that I get to love you.</em> She means to continue, but Dick’s eyes flutter open with so much adoration in his gaze that it makes her breath catch. He captures her hand and presses a kiss against her palm. It feels like her heart is going to leap out of her chest because of how hard it’s beating, sometimes she can’t even believe it’s true, that Eleanor gets to call Dick, hers. That he’s sat right here, her arms around him and his holding her like she’s the most precious person to him.</p><p>“You know,” he says, eyes flickering over her face. “You always manage to say these things with that look in your eyes that means more than the words themselves.” Dick’s other hand reaches up to cup her face, thumbs rubbing over her cheekbones. “I’m not the one with the whole pretty poetry thing going, but…” Dick sucks his lower lip in and worries it with his teeth. “My entire life I’ve been walking on a tightrope, and when I feel like I’m losing my balance, you’re there to steady me. My net, you know? You… you ground me.” He rambles, face flush with colour. Eleanor knew he could be a real smooth talker, only to her great amusement it seemed to stop working around her. Or maybe it was that he let his guard down enough and just let the words in his heart flow. Either or, it’s terribly adorable.</p><p>“What I’m trying to say is-”</p><p>“I know,” Eleanor interrupts, her lips curling up into a wide smile. “I know.”</p><p>“Good, ‘cause I fucking love you Eleanor Leslie Wayne, you bett-mmph.“</p><p>This time when she interrupts him it’s because she pulls him to her hard enough in a fervent kiss that threatens to make her fall off the couch if it hadn’t been for Dick’s quick reflexes catching her around the waist. Unlike before, when their kisses were unhurried and soft, these ones are passionate, filled with their unending tenderness for one another. Quick, then longer as his tongue, wet and warm strokes her own. One hand digging into his shirt, the other cupping the back of his head as she slowly but surely loses all sense of anything but him.</p><p>It’s not until Eleanor hears someone clear their throat by the door to the room they’re in that she realizes that her and Dick are going at it like horny teenagers in a <em>common</em> area of the manor. They pull back from their fervent lip lock and she buries her face against Dick’s chest, hiding her amused embarrassment.</p><p>“Hi Alfie.” Dick says cheerily, not a shameful bone in his body. “What-ow,” she pinches his side. “What’s up?” Dick continues, not at all bothered that she’s still practically sprawled across his lap. Though, Eleanor is fairly certain that Alfred has caught them in more compromising positions, and it’s definitely not the first time they’ve been caught making out on one of the hundreds of sofas that litter the manor, and not only by Alfred either. Poor Tim.</p><p>“Master Richard.” Alfred replies drily, when Eleanor looks over and meets the butler’s eyes there’s a spark of amusement there that makes her feel slightly less embarrassed. “Miss Eleanor. Master Bruce requests your presence in the cave.”</p><p>She sighs softly, never a dull moment.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>“Got a bunch of Firefighters out of a tight spot over at Miller Harbour.” Dick says, one hand under his elbow as he rubs his chin with the other hand. “The warehouse was a compete loss, but it also burned down a massive shipment of various drugs that belonged to Cobblepot.”</p><p>Batman lets out a low ‘hn’ at the report, turning his eyes to her, and Eleanor feels herself shrugging as she paces with her arms crossed. “Similar situation, only it was Falcone men I pulled out of the fire.”</p><p>“Did they see anything?”</p><p>“Unconscious from the smoke.” She replies. “They were sent to Gotham General with a GCPD squad. Maybe Montoya will know more?”</p><p>“The explosions aren’t random.” Bruce says, turning his eyes to the city bellow them. Eleanor would disagree if it weren’t for the fact that it was too random to not be, (it… made sense in her head).</p><p>“So what now?” Dick questions, “as much as I’d like to run after burning buildings all night, it’s not exactly ideal.”</p><p>“This is not going to end up another gang war.” Eleanor says firmly. “So who’s not getting hit?”</p><p>“Two Face, the Maroni family, Ventriloquist, Black Mask… The list goes on, there’s literally too many mobsters to try and figure out who’s <em>not</em> getting hit.”</p><p>“Okay.” Eleanor tilts her head in Dick’s direction, “then who’s mad enough to piss off both Penguin and Falcone at the same time?”</p><p>There’s a pause between all of them, none of them want to speak the name that immediately pops in to their minds. Dick opens his mouth, closes it again, then looks away.</p><p>“No.” Eleanor says.</p><p>“It fits.” Bruce murmurs. “Hatred for drugs, no civilian casualties.”</p><p>“Ja-Hood, wouldn’t put firefighters in danger over a fucking cocaine shipment.” She protests. Bruce doesn’t say anything, she’s about to puff herself up like an angry hedgehog when Dick smoothly slides between them both, breaking the argument apart before it could even start.</p><p>“Innocent until proven guilty.” He says, one black and blue striped hand on her shoulder.</p><p>“He hasn’t been active in two weeks, that’s more than enough time to plan and execute all of this chaos.”</p><p>“You promised.” Eleanor points out, jabbing a finger in Bruce’s direction, even if Dick’s presence is enough to not go completely defensive on Jason’s behalf. There’s also the logical part of her that sees the pattern for what it is. “No expectations and no judgement. You can’t just throw him under the bus at the easiest opportunity. For all we know it could be the fucking Joker doing all of this.”</p><p>Only, the Joker rarely left survivors.</p><p>Bruce lets out a sigh. “You’re right.”</p><p>Eleanor’s fairly certain that her and Dick are both staring at him with astonished looks on their faces. Bruce pretends not to notice, instead he continues as if he hadn’t said anything at all.</p><p>“Go, keep patrolling, I’m going to meet with Montoya, maybe the GCPD knows something we don’t.” He waits for them both to nod their acceptance before he turns and steps off the building with a swing of his grapple line. When he’s well out of sight and earshot, Eleanor clears her throat.</p><p>“Did that just happen?”</p><p>“I’m not going to say, ‘I told you so’ but…” Dick turns to her, a smirk playing on his lips. She shakes her head at him.</p><p>“Oh come on, you did <em>not</em> foresee that he would be this agreeable.”</p><p>“I dunno, pretty bird. I read people pretty well, it’s kinda my thing.” Dick continues smirking, looking mighty proud of himself.</p><p>“Can you read this?” She snarks back, holding her middle finger up at him. His smile widens, then he’s got her hand in his grip and spun her around so that her back is pressed against his front in the matter of seconds.</p><p>“You’re so mean to me.”</p><p>“You deserve it Boy Wonder.” She replies, without any actual heat behind it.</p><p>“Only a little.” Dick hums next to her ear as he holds her close, blue striped fingers brushing over her black armour “You love me anyway.”</p><p>She turns in his hold, reaching up to tap him on the nose with a small private smile on her lips only meant for him. “Come on, there’s plenty of bad guys who picked the wrong night to be out and about.”</p><p>“Right behind you.”</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>“-and you know <em>I’m</em> not opposed a little jazz-“</p><p>“Shut up already!” the thug growls out.</p><p>Dick deftly dodges another swing. “Rude.” He says, turning to look at her as she pins the other Maroni gang member to the cool steel floor, one wrist already behind his back as she’s preparing to cuff him. “Isn’t he being rude, babe?”</p><p>“Very.”</p><p>“As I was saying,” Dick continues, twirling one of his escrimas in one hand, gesturing to the guy still standing. “When someone asks you to please lower the volume of your music, you kind of do. It’s just good manners.”</p><p>The guy Eleanor’s just handcuffed lets out a noise. “Even the cape gets it.”</p><p>“Nightwing.” Eleanor prompts, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at how long he’s been toying with the thug opposing him. Dick definitely rolls his eyes behind his domino, then with a quick flick of his wrist he bounces the escrima stick off a couple of surfaces – like the showman he is. Just as the thug is about to make a run for it, to the discarded gun not too far away, the stick returns and smacks him in the back of the head. Dick makes an approving noise and catches it, holstering the item back in its rightful place. Then turns and eyes her.</p><p>“Happy?”</p><p>“Overjoyed.” She replies flatly, shifting the guy up to his feet.</p><p>“Look, we ain’t done nothing.” He says, sounding calm for someone who just had her fist in his gut. “We’re just chillin’. Even if Marco’s music is trashy.”</p><p>“You want us to believe that your boss isn’t taking precautions against the attacks going around?” Dick asks. “What’s your name?”</p><p>“Names Vinny and no, haven’t heard a thing from the Boss.” He breathes, looking over his shoulder at her. “Look, I ain’t gonna run, can you loosen the cuffs a bit?”</p><p>Eleanor removes them instead, even if he ran, with both her and Dick’s attention on him the chance of the thug getting away from them were close to zero. The guy murmurs a thank you, rubbing his wrists and goes to sit down on the chair next to the table with a small radio that had unfortunately played its last song during the fight. (She hadn’t specifically aimed for it, it had just accidentally gotten in the way when she’d jumped down from the rafters.) Dick props himself up on the table next to the guy, snatching up the broken tech and starts messing with it as if they hadn’t just busted up a warehouse filled with drugs.</p><p>“You’ve heard nothing at all?” She asks, eyeing the guy. “And don’t lie.”</p><p>“Ain’t gonna lie, don’t fancy another punch from you Bat-lady.” Vinny holds his hands up in front of himself. “Like geez what do you even eat to-… Never mind.” He clears his throat. “We heard ‘bout the fires, but ain’t be no word from the boss. We’re just supposed to guard this shipment, ain’t been any new orders.”</p><p>Eleanor shakes her head in disbelief.</p><p>“Maybe Maroni’s gone underground?” Dick offers, not lifting his head from what he’s doing.</p><p>“Ya really think the Boss would do that?” The gang member questions, one meaty hand rubbing at his bruised cheek. “What about the rest of us?”</p><p>Eleanor kind of feels bad for him, if she overlooked the drug dealing, maybe this guy was a decent person. Even if he didn’t like Jazz.</p><p>“You don’t mind us having a look around? Right Vinny?” Dick says then, catching her eye.</p><p>The man in question shrugs, “ain’t gonna stop ya, if that’s what you’re askin’. That didn’t go so hot the first time ‘round.”</p><p>It turns out to be a complete waste of time, Eleanor finds out about twenty minutes later, once she’s gone through several cargo containers filled with all kinds of drugs and one container filled with exotic pelts and ivory. It makes her really pissed to think about all the animals that had been killed for it, only to have it end up in the hands of people who really couldn’t give a damn who they hurt. She’s half a mind to light it all on fire just so no one else could get their grubby paws on it.</p><p>Dick rounds up the unconscious thugs with the help of Vinny, making sure they’re not choking to death on their own tongues in the process. The small talk between the two of them is weird to say the least, but they find out that Vinny’s got two girls going through collage, his previous time spent in prison for misspent youth of gang activity stopping him from getting a legitimate job, so he’d fallen back on old patterns to try and support his family. It’s a tragic story that Eleanor knows happens way too often.</p><p>“You know, Vinny.” She hears Dick say as she searches for… something, <em>anything</em>. “If you want I can help you out with an actual job. Nothing too fancy, but at least it’ll be legitimate.”</p><p>“Ya could?”</p><p>“Yeah, got a pen and paper?” There’s a small shuffle of a chair scraping against the floor of the warehouse and Vinny muttering in Italian under his breath. Eleanor gives up her search, she’d almost turned the whole thing inside out and there’s nothing that would suggest explosives of any kind. Or any kind of lead. It’s really a dead end. <em>Another </em>dead end.</p><p>Walking back over to the duo, she spots Dick’s grin just moments before the radio flickers to life, and a smooth jazzy tune flows out of it, at a reasonable volume. Vinny makes a face but produces a piece of paper and a pen from his back pocket and hands it over to Dick who quickly scrawls something down on it.</p><p>“Call this number, tell em Nightwing sent you,” he says. “They’re the understanding sort. They’ll set you up with something that’ll help your girls. Most likely construction work, there’s never a shortage of that in Gotham.”</p><p>“Thank you Mr. Nightwing.” Vinny sniffles, reaching up to wipe away an errant tear that escapes his eye. Clutching the piece of paper in his other hand like it’s the most precious thing he’s got. “This is really great.”</p><p>“No problem, buddy. Just keep it on the straight, yeah?”</p><p>“Yes sir.” Vinny nods.</p><p>Dick looks over to her. “Ready to go babe?”</p><p>“Nothing here,” she grumbles, it’s a bit difficult to keep being annoyed when she feels so proud for what Dick’s just done. (But she’s a Wayne, she’ll manage it). “I’ve sent a message to the GCPD, they’ll be here in ten.” She glances at Vinny. “You should leave before that.”</p><p>“Yes ma’am.” Vinny says, looking at Dick again and breathes out another ‘thank you’ before turns and jogs through the exit. She stares where the retreating form of Vinny had just been for a moment, then turns back to Dick.</p><p>“You think he’ll do it?” Eleanor asks once the door clicks shut.</p><p>“He showed me a picture of his girls, pretty sure he’ll do it for them.”</p><p>She smiles, taking his hand in hers and pulling him to his feet before leaning in and kissing him gently on the cheek.</p><p>“You’re such a softie.”</p><p>“Well, saving people is what we do right?” Dick grins.</p><p>She’s about to answer when several gunshots do it for her. Dick lets go of her as they both start running. The police shouldn’t have been that quick, and even if it were them they wouldn’t just open fire for no reason. And they hadn’t heard any of the usual shouting.</p><p>They burst through the door and immediately dive for cover by a car where a dazed and scared Vinny is sat on the dirty ground. The people shooting isn’t police, but gangsters. At first thought she thinks it’s Maroni reinforcements. But why would they shoot at one of their own?</p><p>“We’re going to draw their fire, okay Vinny? Earliest chance you got, you run.” Dick says over the loud noises, Eleanor peers out of their cover, at least half a dozen, one armed with a sub-machinegun and the others with pistols.</p><p>If Vinny replies, she doesn’t hear it. Instead she feels a light tap on her shoulder that means Dick’s going to sneak up on them. She gives a small nod of affirmation, feeling the slight shift behind her that tells Eleanor that he’s gone around the parked cars. Pulling the small round pellet out of her pocket and weighing it in her hand, waiting for a small gap in the gun fire to lean out of cover. When it comes, Eleanor throws the smoke bomb as hard as she can straight into one of the thugs’ chest. It explodes, providing enough cover for her as she rolls out of cover and flicks her bō-staff to its full length. Vaulting into the thugs and taking down the guy with the SMG by kicking his legs out from under him and then jabbing her staff into his arm so that he lets go of the weapon.</p><p>She hears the electrical swing of Dick’s escrimas and the resounding grunts of two other guys hitting the floor just a second later, the wind clears the smoke quickly this close to the docks and soon the little cover they had from it is dispersed. The two guys in front of her spin around to try and get their guns trained on her. Eleanor weaves to the side and crouches down low to twist the gun out of one of the thug’s hands, the other one is about to fire when an escrima bounces the weapon out of his hands. She ejects the clip out of the gun in her hand and throws the now unloaded weapon to the back of the head of the guy Dick is fighting. Her partner even manages to grin in her direction before he finishes what the gun started. It’s not a difficult fight once the weapons are out of the way. Dispatching the two in front of her with a quick flick of her staff and a kick that makes the other guy stumble back into a van, hitting his head as he slides down it.</p><p>When she’s done and made sure that none of those that are on the ground are going to get back up again, she sees Dick flip his escrima in one hand, forcing another thug to his knees and pressing the weapon against the guys neck.</p><p>“Now that we got this mess sorted out, why don’t you tell me who you work for.” Dick says calmly.</p><p>“I’m not telling you shit, pretty bo-ARGH!” The end of the sentence becomes a garbled grunt as the electricity in the escrima discharges.</p><p>“That’s twenty thousand volts,” Dick continues once the thug stops squirming. He removes the escrima, then adjusting it slightly in his grip and Eleanor sees the electricity spark across the other end. “Wanna see how bad fifty thousand can get?”</p><p>There’s a moment of hesitation as the escrima gets closer to the guys neck before he caves. “Black Mask! Okay! I work for Black Mask!”</p><p>“And you don’t happen to know where Sionis is at this moment, right?”</p><p>“No…?” The guy croaks, fear palpable in his eyes even in the poor lighting of the area.</p><p>“Thought as much.” Dick replies, the voltage dissipating as he smacks the escrima to the back of the guy’s head, who then goes limp onto the dirty concrete.</p><p>Behind them, there’s another burst of ‘thankyou-thankyou-thankyou’s’ as Vinny scrambles to his feet and legs it as fast as he can in the opposite direction of what Eleanor recognizes as police sirens. She glances at the black van that Sionis’ crew had arrived in.</p><p>“I’ll tie ‘em up, you check the van.” Dick says, already fishing out several zip ties out of his pocket. She gives him a sharp nod, jumping over one of the groaning goons on the ground and opening up the back door to the van, only to be greeted by… absolutely nothing.</p><p>“No explosives.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Eleanor grits her teeth.</p><p>“You’re sure?” Dick sounds about as surprised as she feels frustrated.</p><p>Climbing into the van, she carefully searches for any hidden latches or locks that would reveal a stash of explosives. “Nothing.” She says, as Dick approaches the open door behind her. “Why the hell were they even doing here?”</p><p>“Opportunity to steal from his competitor?” Dick rubs the back of his head as she jumps out of the car, ruffling his already ruffled hair.</p><p>There had to be something, <em>anything</em> that would implicate that Jason wasn’t behind it all. She just couldn’t believe that he would do all of this.</p><p>Couldn’t or <em>wouldn’t</em>?</p><p>Jason had already proven himself to be a killer the first time he saved her eight months ago. And so far no civilians or emergency service people had died. The pattern was <em>there</em>. She didn’t want to believe that he would revert back to anger again. After their talk in the church, after confronting Bruce on that rooftop. After the re-established contact with Alfred. After the food, books and notes Eleanor had hoped that they were getting through to him. God, she wanted to believe that so badly. Even if the odds stacked against him. He wasn’t a bad person, he wasn’t a villain. <em>Jason wouldn’t do this.</em></p><p>…Right?</p><p>“I know what you’re thinking and we’re not going to stop until we find out what’s <em>actually </em>going on, but we’ve got to get out of here before the police shows up.” Dick murmurs, gently tugging her with him. Sooner or later the real culprit would slip up and then they’d all pounce. Because Jason isn’t a bad guy. Because Jason is one of them. She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and nods.</p><p>They’re barely out of the area when Eleanor catches something out of the corner of her eye at the same time Dick skids to a halt in front of her, spinning on the spot and catching her before she tumbles into him. They both stare into the darkness of the other building, and the unmistakable gleam of the red helmet.</p><p> </p><p>“Jay.” Eleanor breathes.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>...sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger!<br/>Don't worry there'll be another chapter (I think, maybe two) to wrap up this story.<br/>Thank you everyone for reading, commenting or just leaving kudos :)<br/>Stay safe &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. He'd trade his guns for love, but he's caught in the crossfire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Eleanor scales the building in record speed, knowing that if Jason hadn’t wanted them both to see him he wouldn’t have exposed himself like that. Which meant he wanted to talk and there was <em>no way</em> she was going to turn that open invitation down. Dick is right next to her, easily climbing up the gothic architecture as if gravity were a concept that didn’t apply to him at all. He gets up to the ledge were Jason is waiting before Eleanor does, yet Jason doesn’t acknowledge either of them when she straightens up.</p><p>It’s frustrating not to be able to see his face, you could read a lot from just expressions alone, even if you had your eyes covered. Jason’s body language doesn’t give much away either. Tense but turned away, as if he’s expecting them to fight and he’d rather run. Below them the street is lit up with blue and red light, thugs being hauled away in several large police vans.</p><p>“Jason?” Dick asks after another tense minute of silence. He’s fidgeting, shifting ever so slightly on the balls of his feet, not just because of his inability to stay still for a long period of time. But also nerves. This high up there’s no chance of anyone overhearing them, and no chance of anyone sneaking up on them without them seeing it. Eleanor isn’t too worried about code names. Dick glances at her, shrugging a bit helplessly. As if to say, <em>‘what now?’</em>.</p><p>“Jay?” She prompts when Jason doesn’t reply. “We’ve been worried. We had no idea where you were.”</p><p>“You don’t think I’m behind all this?” Jason breaks his silence, ever so slightly cocking his head to the side, watching them out of the corner of his eyes. “I bet the old man does.”</p><p>Dick takes half a step forward and Jason immediately spins on the spot, hand going for the gun strapped to his thigh holster. Dick immediately throws his hands up, stopping in his track.</p><p>“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you, Little Wing.” He murmurs his voice gentle. “I-… I’m just happy you’re okay.”</p><p>“Okay is subjective.” Jason hisses out, the tension leaves his shoulders somewhat but not completely. Eleanor wishes she could see Jason’s face for the second time in a short period. Very carefully Jason looks around, and Eleanor follows his gaze to the nook and angles that would provide easy cover. This high up there aren’t many, but they’re all trained to spot them.</p><p>“He’s not here.” Eleanor says, understanding what Jason’s looking for, or rather <em>whom.</em> “Thirty minutes ago he was going to talk to Montoya.”</p><p>She can already hear Bruce scolding her for giving away so many details to someone he thought they couldn’t trust.</p><p>Eleanor did though, trust Jason. Maybe she shouldn’t, a lot can happen in five years.</p><p>The red of the helmet glares at her in the sparse lighting from the occasional break in the clouds above them. Then he slowly moves his hand away from his gun, crossing his arms instead.</p><p>“Jason.” Dick says again, just as softly as before. “Take off the helmet please, Little Wing. Let me see you.”</p><p>Jason hesitates, head moving slightly between the two of them. She thinks he won’t do it, it would leave Jason more vulnerable, easier to read. Then to Eleanor’s surprise, he reaches up and unlatches the helmet, it comes off with a soft hissing noise. Jason’s still got a red domino on underneath the lenses up, but it’s unmistakably him. Pale in the occasional moonlight, light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheekbones, black curly hair with that new white addition to his fringe, sharp lines and slightly crooked nose from too many breaks. The faint almost invisible scar on his upper lip. And the blue-green eyes that remind her of the sea.</p><p>
  <em>(“It’s going to scar,” she tells him, lightly applying some antiseptic to the fresh wound.<br/>“Cool,” Jason replies cheekily, “chicks dig scars.”)</em>
</p><p>Dick inhales sharply, maybe up until this moment he hadn’t quite believed them. No, no, that’s not it. He had believed them, but <em>seeing</em> is different from hearing second hand.</p><p>The next moment Dick’s moved forward, and before Jason can even react Dick got his arms wrapped around Jason’s shoulders, having to stand on his toes to actually reach properly. It’s adorable, Eleanor’s heart warms at the sight and of Dick’s soft <em>‘Gosh, Jay you’ve gotten so big.’</em> Jason doesn’t hug back, and he’s tense at the touch, but he doesn’t push Dick away either, even as he tilts his head back a little and stares up at the sky in mixed exasperation and irritation. <em>(She swears she also sees a glint of fondness and hope.)</em> For a moment Eleanor wishes she had her phone with her, so that she could capture this moment forever. When Dick rocks back to his heels, hands still resting over Jason’s shoulders, Jason finally looks at him properly.</p><p>“Why do you always make things weird, Dickhead?”</p><p>Dick chuckles lightly, it sounds like he’s just barely holding back tears as he takes half a step back. “Sorry, Little Wing. It’s just… you, you know?” <em>You’re alive, you’re okay, I’ve got you.</em> Unspoken yet so loud.</p><p>Jason scowls back, even if his gaze isn’t as cutting as it could be.</p><p>“What are you doing here Jay?” She asks gently, also stepping closer and re-directing the conversation before Jason decides he doesn’t want to talk anymore. Even though Eleanor also wants to hug him and never let go again, she doubts Jason would allow it. He’s still taut like a bowstring, ready to fight or flee at the slightest provocation.</p><p>He shrugs, making a conscious effort of seeming like he isn’t as tense as he is. “Wanted to know if big bad Bats was out there lookin’ to blame me for all this.” He gestures out to the red and blue light still going on the street some six hundred feet below them. Eleanor once again feels warmth spread across her chest, she had<em> known</em> Jason wasn’t behind the explosions and fires.</p><p>“He isn’t,” or at least not anymore, she hoped. “The M.O was there but there was no proof it was you, Jay.”</p><p>“Huh.” Is all they get back, Jason’s scowl lessening a bit in surprise.</p><p>She wants to tell him about their conversation earlier this week, but he’d probably take that as Eleanor defending Bruce.</p><p>“It’s a set up isn’t it?” She asks, it’s safer to talk about the mission. Even if she’d rather not.</p><p>Another shrug. “Sionis is probably just pissed I shot him with a rocket launcher.”</p><p>There’s a beat of silence as both Eleanor and Dick glace at each other. The curious part of her wants to ask <em>where</em> Jason got a rocket launcher from. Another part wants to laugh at the absurdity of firing rocket propelled explosives at one of Gotham’s most notorious mobsters. She kinda wishes she’d been there to see Sionis’ face.</p><p>“So it is Black Mask behind it all.” Dick says, “and you didn’t kill him?”</p><p>“Not for lack of trying.” Jason replies, watching both of their reactions like a hawk. When he gets no ‘killing = bad’ comment from either of them, he deflates a bit. Like he wanted to argue the point. Shaking his head he finally uncrosses his arms and gestures to the two of them.</p><p>“Okay, what the fuck is going on?”</p><p>“Language.” She automatically says. Even though Alfred is back at the manor and not currently running coms. Jason ignores her.</p><p>“I tell you I’ve shot Sionis with a rocket launcher, that I’ve tried to kill him, and nothing?”</p><p>“You want us to argue with you, Little Wing?” Dick murmurs.</p><p>“Well…” Jason huffs. “I mean not Ella, but you’re the golden boy. You follow all the rules.”</p><p>Dick grimaces. “If I followed all the rules I wouldn’t be Nightwing.”</p><p>Another beat of silence.</p><p>“So… you’re okay with it?”</p><p>“Of course not.” Eleanor and Dick both reply at the same time. She can <em>see</em> Jason’s hackles rise.</p><p>“Look Jay,” she takes a step forward before he can go fully defensive, she’d just have to reach out to touch him now. Jason doesn’t move, remaining as tense as he was before. “It’s not that we- that <em>I</em> don’t understand why you’ve done what you have.” All the paedophiles, murderers and rapists that will never get another chance to hurt anyone. “It’s just…“ complicated. She stops talking, not sure what she’s trying to say.</p><p>Maybe the truth is that she’s not strong enough to take a life – no matter how base – and not lose control. </p><p>Dick’s hand on her shoulder anchors her from floating away. She turns her head a little, offering a small vulnerable smile to her partner.</p><p>“Whatever,” Jason mutters when she looks back at him. “I’m not going to let him think he can do all of this and get away with it.”</p><p>The offer of help is on the tip of her tongue before she can even make up her mind about it. Jason keeps staring at her as if he’s daring her to offer it.</p><p>“You know where he is?” She questions instead.</p><p>“No.” Eleanor isn’t sure if he’s lying or not. “But I know what he wants.”</p><p>“No.” She snaps, the small smirk that had crawled up on Jason’s lips turns back into a scowl, his domino furrows into a frown.</p><p>“The fuck do you mean ‘no’?”</p><p>“You’re-… I’m not-“ <em>I won’t allow it. Using himself as bait? No. Nu-uh. Never going to happen.</em></p><p>Still, her teeth clack together as she snaps her mouth shut, voicing her protectiveness is sure to make Jason even more defensive, and angry, <em>angrier</em>. As if sensing her inner conflict, Dick speaks up, she can tell he wants to put his hand on Jason’s shoulder or offer some sort of physical comfort yet restrains himself.</p><p>“Let us help you, Little Wing.”</p><p>Jason slowly turns his head to look at Dick. “Help me? Like you helped me five years ago, huh, Dick? Oh, wait. My bad. Fuzzy memory. Too many fucking crowbars to the head, I guess.” He continues, sneering, eyes flaring an unnatural green. Lazarus green.</p><p>Dick flinches like he’s been physically struck.</p><p>Eleanor feels like she’s at war with herself, because one part of her feels that all too familiar ball of guilt lodge itself in her throat, and another part wants to curse Jason for talking like that to Dick. For daring to even insinuate that Dick was somehow at fault for what happened. God knows he already blamed himself for failing enough. Always trying to set that perfect example, when that failed, because he’s only human, he can only be in one place at a time and the bar he set for himself was always sky-high, he’d beat himself up for it. Worked himself to the bone to try and not displease people.</p><p>
  <em>Because blaming him is exactly what she’d done, and Dick didn’t deserve it then and doesn’t deserve it now.</em>
</p><p>She straightens up, her own muscles going taut in anger, drawing Jason’s ire to her.</p><p>“Don’t.” she warns him, and Jason laughs mockingly.</p><p>“Always so protective Ella, guess it just didn’t messu-“</p><p>“Jason I swear, if you finish that sentence-“</p><p>“You’ll what? Tell daddy?”</p><p>“Hey,” Dick says, sharper than before. “This is not the time or the place to have this conversation. I get you’re angry Jason. But we want to help you. Not because we don’t trust you, but because we don’t want to lose you again.”</p><p>For a long moment Jason just stares at the two of them, fists clenched. Then the anger in his posture leaves him like a balloon deflating. He looks away, muttering under his breath. “I can take care of myself.”</p><p>He sounds so much like the Jason she remembers that Eleanor reaches out on automatic, gripping Jason’s forearm with her hand tightly. He tenses again, eyes snapping back to her but doesn’t pull away. Almost like he doesn’t want to, even if every instinct is screaming at him that he should.</p><p>“We know you can. But that doesn’t mean you have to.” Her voice is gentle, aiming for reassuring, hopeful. Wanting him to understand that it was never about her not believing in him.</p><p>“Fuck off.” He grunts completely without any heat or venom behind it. Maybe he remembers having this conversation with her when he was fourteen. Maybe Jason doesn’t want to fight, to feel anger and frustration. Maybe he wants to have as much faith in them as they do him.</p><p>Dick recognizes it for what it is. Beaming a wide grin to both of them. “So, where are we going?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to regret this.” Jason mutters.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Blowing up the front door would send a better message.” Jason says, arms crossed. Dick shrugs, crouched on the lip of the building, he looks tiny next to Jason’s bulkier frame.</p><p>“Scaring them is more fun.”</p><p>“It’s not about fun, Dickhead.”</p><p>“But it could be.”</p><p>Eleanor swears if Jason hadn’t been wearing his helmet he would have pinched the bridge of his nose by now. Standing just ever so slightly behind them, watching and listening to the familial banter is enough for her. Dick jokes and Jason fires back with insults that all three of them know is filled with more fondness than actual malice. (Maybe a little spite, because it <em>is</em> Jason.)</p><p>“We need to get them to talk.” Jason grits out through his teeth. “These idiots should know where Sionis is, so-“</p><p>“So giving them a concussion from exploding doors wouldn’t help us.”</p><p>“I hate you.”</p><p>“Aw, come on Little Wing, you don’t mean that.”</p><p>The beeping of her comm going off stops her from hearing Jason’s reply, Eleanor reaches up and taps it once, activating the line.</p><p>“Blackbird.”</p><p>“Batman.” She replies, not missing how still both Dick and Jason go. Even if they both keep their eyes on the building on the opposite side of the street.</p><p>“Montoya don’t know anything, the police are responding just as we are.” Batman continues. Halfway through his report she signs to Dick and Jason which channel to connect to. Dick doesn’t hesitate, reaching up to his comm just as she had. Batman’s finished speaking by the time Jason connects to it. Eleanor hadn’t honestly thought that he would, but she feels a bit of pride for the step forward.</p><p>“I’m heading west on Dillon Avenue, camera caught Sionis’ thugs setting fire to a warehouse north of Coventry.”</p><p>“Okay.” Eleanor pauses, hesitating. “We’re still in Burnley.” She pauses again, looking at Jason. “Hood is with us.”</p><p>Jason doesn’t react, standing stock still on the edge of the building. For a moment, the whole world goes quiet. Bruce doesn’t respond, even though she can still hear the faint sound of the wind coming through his mic, then nothing. As if they’re all holding their breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.</p><p>Softly, “Jason?” A heartbeat, then softer still. “Son?”</p><p>And Jason reacts as if he’s been punched in the stomach, shaking his head, hunching over and drawing in a shaky breath through the filters in his helmet like he can’t breathe, before reaching up and tearing the item off. It clatters to the ground, rolling to a stop not far away. More harsh breaths follow as he stumbles past her, to grip the corner lip of the building. Trembling. Eleanor clicks her comm off before she can make her mind up about it, then quickly makes her way to Jason’s side. Dick murmuring quietly into his own mic, words that are probably mean to reassure Bruce, but she can’t make them out over the tightness in her chest.</p><p>“Breathe with me Jay.” She whispers, placing a hand between his shoulder blades. Tugging on his arm so that he’s facing her. “Come on, deep breaths. You’re okay. You’re safe.” Eleanor continues, drawing in air loudly to get his attention. Running her hands up and down his arms rhythmically. Jason’s fingers tremble when he grips her biceps tightly, she feels the pressure through her armour. She continues to breathe deep and even breaths until Jason’s also evens out.</p><p>Jason lets out a soft choked noise when she pushes her own hood back and draws him in to a tight hug. His head resting on her shoulder even with the slight height difference. <em>I’ve got you. I’ve got you. You’re safe.</em></p><p>They need to get out of here, get back to the manor, and if not the manor then a safe house or even the penthouse suite.</p><p>“No.” Jason mutters, and Eleanor realises she’s said it out loud. “I’m fine, I… It was just-“ he clears his throat, starting to pull away from her and Eleanor holds on tighter.</p><p>“You have nothing to prove to anyone.”</p><p>“I know.” He mumbles, sounding exhausted and hesitant. It doesn’t sound like he believes himself.</p><p>“We don’t have to be here, B can deal with it.” She offers, “there’s a safe house nearby, mine and ‘Wings.”<em> Not Bruce’s.</em></p><p>Jason hesitates again. “But-.” He cuts himself off, pushing away from her and running a hand through his curly hair, the stubborn white lock falls back to his forehead.</p><p>“Please, Jay?” She murmurs, “just this once?”</p><p>The exhaustion written on his face makes her believe that he'll accept, so the sudden and harsh; “No.” Surprises her.</p><p>Jason's jaw clenches, the vulnerability fading from his face, he picks up his helmet, fiddling with it for a second before he buts it back on. “I’m doing this, you can either come with or step aside, but don’t get in my way.” Jason steps up to the side of the building, glancing back at the two of them. “And tell Batman to stay the hell away from me.”</p><p>Then he leaps from the building, the tell-tale ‘thwip’ of a grapple shooting out following soon behind. Eleanor doesn’t hesitate, reaching up and activating her comm again.</p><p>“He’s not ready.”</p><p>Then she dives in behind him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Eleanor is panting from exhaustion. Sionis’ guys had put up a much harder fight than she’d expected.</p><p>She spins her electrified bō-staff in one hand, it hums low, a noise that Tim once had told her sounded like a lightsaber. Another guy lunges at her with a machete, she catches the blade on her wrist guard and knees him in the stomach, twisting her free hand to grab both of his, throwing him to the ground with a pained groan. From behind her another one lunges forward, mistaking her quick takedown for Eleanor being distracted. She swings her staff, discharging the low voltage straight into his unprotected chest, sending the man to his knees with a garbled cry.</p><p>To her right, the black and blue of Nightwing weaves between Sionis’ thugs like a wild current, striking out with his escrimas before any of them can react and then <em>flipping, twisting, floating</em> away from any return swings. His less plated suit allowing him much more movement than hers does.</p><p>And to her left, across the room, Jason is dropping people like they’re flies, unlike Eleanor’s dodge-and-strike tactics and Dick’s more flowing style, Jason fights like every guy has personally offended him. While not having fired a single shot from his guns, both are in his hands, using them as bludgeoning weapons. <em>(Eleanor kind of wonders how many he goes through a night).</em> Even though some of the thugs manage to hit him, Jason doesn’t seem phased, he takes a punch and returns it tenfold. But he’s not without grace, his style reminds her of a mixture of Batman and Nightwing, and a dash of dirty street fighting unique to himself.</p><p>She swings wide with her bō, dropping another thug by catching the electrified end in his jaw, at the same time Dick ducks under the staff, taking the legs out from under someone going for her. They keep moving together, as if the fight has been choreographed, knowing each other’s moves by just the subtlest of glances and muscle twitches.</p><p>“It’s fighting!” Jason shouts when Dick lifts her, and she manages to kick two goons rushing them. “Not a fucking dance!”</p><p>“Dance fighting!” Dick chirps happily back.</p><p>Eleanor can’t hide her smile, seamlessly moving through Dick’s space towards Jason to grab the foot of a thug, throwing him off balance. She knocks him out with anther flick of her bō, when she straightens up the only guy still standing’s got a broken arm and a gun pointed at his face.</p><p>“Tell me where Sionis is before I decide you’d look better with a hole in your head.” Jason growls darkly.</p><p>“B-bats don’t kill.” The guy dares to squeak out.</p><p>Jason cocks his pistol. “Do I fucking look like a Bat?”</p><p>The quality of his gear certainly screams Gotham vigilante, but no Bat has ever carried guns.</p><p>Out of the corner of her eye, Dick tenses, fingers wrapping tightly around his escrima as if he’s debating whether to throw it at Jason’s extended arm or not. She makes a subtle stop motion with her hand, they have to trust Jason. He wouldn’t shoot someone right in front of them. Even if he disagreed with how they did things, he hadn’t killed anyone in the fight, Eleanor had been keeping track of the wounds he dished out. While they were more punishing than hers, than Dick’s, they were incapacitating strikes, not deathly ones.</p><p>They had to trust Jason to make the right decision. Because he would, Eleanor was sure of it.</p><p>“I- uhm I-I… No…?” The thug stutters.</p><p>“Sionis!” Jason snarls again.</p><p>“I-I d-don’t…”</p><p>Lightning fast Jason snatches the guy up by the collar of his shirt, forcing him up to his toes to keep his feet on the ground. The gun still precariously aimed at his shoulder.</p><p>“I’m going to ask one more time. Where. Is. Sionis.”</p><p>Then the guy’s head explodes before he can speak another word.</p><p>“Sniper!” Dick calls, diving for cover near the entrance. Eleanor throws her entire body into Jason’s just in time for both of them to dodge the second bullet. They both roll on the floor for a split second before Jason hauls her up and throws her behind a thick support pillar. Another bullet shatters a window and makes a loud pinging noise as it strikes the metal pillar she’s behind. She looks around, her heart beating fast in her chest. Dick’s crouched by a metal crate, looking no worse for wear but across the room. With no viable escape routes, pinned by the sniper. Jason’s taken up position near a wall not too far away from her. Eleanor dares to peek, just enough to see the window that was shattered from the bullets. She can just make out the small figure of a person on the roof across the street. Too far away for any of her weapons.</p><p>A fourth shot pings the crate Dick’s hiding behind. “I can’t see anything.” He hisses into the comm.</p><p>“No angle.” Jason confirms.</p><p>“Give me your gun, Hood.” She whispers.</p><p>“What?” Both Jason and Dick say at the same time. Sounding equally surprised.</p><p>“The gun.” Eleanor repeats, “I can see the sniper, but my batarangs won’t reach.” She slowly slides down the pillar, tapping with her gloved fingers against the concrete and looking directly at Jason. Who keep staring at her like she’s crazy, and hey, she dressed up at night and punched criminals. A little crazy kind of came with the job description. Eleanor taps the ground again and Jason actually shrugs, letting out a low breathy noise that edges on disbelief as he slides the weapon across the  space separating them.</p><p>Then the doors explode inwards, because of course they’re going to get another issue to deal with before they can take care of the first.</p><p>“Red Hood!” A distinctly familiar voice calls into the room. “I’ve been looking for you!” Roman Sionis steps through the unhinged doors, followed by a couple of big and mean looking body guards with assault rifles in their hands.</p><p>“Fucking hell.” Jason mutters under his breath. Eleanor is inclined to agree.</p><p>“Come on out princess!” Sionis continues in an almost sing-song voice. “We’ve got business to discuss. Rockets to return to sender.”</p><p>Slow and steady Eleanor stands back up, being careful to not be seen from behind her pillar.</p><p>“We got a plan, right?” Dick whispers over their comms, it’s almost not audible over the people that shuffles in after the mob boss.</p><p>“I’ll take the sniper out, then Hood and I can close the gap and help you.” She breathily replies. Once in close with the assault rifles it would be too dangerous for Sionis men to use them without hurting each other.</p><p>“You’ll have to lean out of cover.” Dick whispers back, worry curling over his words. “It’ll leave you wide open.”</p><p>“I’m the <em>only</em> one with an angle.” There was no other option. Eleanor grips the gun tighter in her hand. Just because they didn’t use them didn’t mean they didn’t have training. Bruce refuses them in the field because it’s too easy to make mistakes with them. But they had all gone through marksmanship training. She could make the shot without killing the sniper.</p><p>Probably.</p><p>Sionis taps his foot by the entrance. “I don’t have all night, sweetheart.”</p><p>“He wants me.” Jason says quietly.</p><p>Eleanor’s blood freezes.</p><p>“No!” Dick hisses, shaking his head violently.</p><p>“The sniper won’t shoot me. Sionis wants to make an example out of me, I messed with him. He wants to return the favour.” Jason looks up at her. “It’s our best shot.”</p><p>“Jason.” She whispers, shaking her head.</p><p>“It’s our best shot.” Jason repeats.</p><p>“Blackbird takes out the sniper and they’ll start shooting. You’ll have no cover.” Dick snaps, his voice still low. This is Dick’s worst nightmare, being pinned, not able to do anything to protect those he loves.</p><p>“He won’t.” Jason tries again as Sionis lets out a long impatient sigh. She doesn’t know what causes it, her eyes leave Dick for a split second to stare at Jason. Then there’s a muffled grunt and a short struggle as Sionis lets out a triumphant ‘aha!’. When her eyes snap back to the entrance, Dick’s lip is bleeding and two of the men with assault rifles are holding him on his knees the muzzle of the rifle pressed to the back of his head and one of the thugs with a fast-forming black eye, the other with a broken nose.</p><p>Eleanor swallows thickly, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.</p><p>Black Mask laughs, grabbing one of the escrimas to tilt Dick’s head up.</p><p>“And what do we have here,” he punctuates each word with a not so gentle tap of the escrima against Dick’s chin. “A little birdie flying outside of the Bat’s nest?”</p><p>Dick grins back up at the mob boss, not at all intimidated. “You came up with that one all on your own?”</p><p>“Oh-ho, it’s the mouthy one!” Sionis continues almost gleeful, “I’m going to count to three, Red Hood. And if you’re not out by then this little bird will die.” He levels his revolver to Dick’s forehead. Eleanor’s heart thumps harder in her chest.</p><p>“Don’t!” Dick calls out earning himself a backhand that makes blood dribble out of his mouth.</p><p>Jason looks at her. Eleanor holds her breath.</p><p>“One.”</p><p>“You can do it.” Jason murmurs.</p><p>“Two.”</p><p>“I trust you.”</p><p>Dick curses when Jason steps out of his cover just as the final ‘three’ was about to ring out. Instead they all hear a clap of hands as Sionis takes a step forward.</p><p>“There you are.”</p><p>“Here I am.” Jason replies, modulator making him sound disinterested, if not outright bored.</p><p>“Yanno,” Sionis continues, stepping forward again. “I honestly thought you’d leave your friend for dead. It’s what I would have done. Hell! It’s what any mobster in Gotham would have done!”</p><p>“We’re not the same Roman.”</p><p>“Agreed.” Sionis says, raising a revolver up, pointing it straight at Jason’s chest. “Now take off the stupid helmet so I can get a good look at the man who thought he could mess with me and live.”</p><p>Jason doesn’t move and Eleanor grits her teeth in frustration. She can’t take the shot now, not with the gun that’s pressed up against Dick’s head. She couldn’t take that risk. Another pained grunt draws her eyes back to Dick, and the bloodied escrima in Sionis’ hand.</p><p>“I don’t like repeating myself.” He says, staring at Jason.</p><p>“How about you stop-“</p><p>“If he hasn’t taken the helmet of in the next ten seconds, shoot Nightwing in the knees. I doubt he’ll do much more flipping around after that.”</p><p>Jason tenses, then slowly reaches up and removes his helmet, leaving him in his red domino and Sionis lets out a bark of a laugh.</p><p>“You’re a <em>child.</em>”</p><p>Jason’s back is to Eleanor so she can’t see the facial expression, but by the way he tenses up and his fists clenches as the helmet drops to the floor, the comment doesn’t go over well.</p><p>But then Jason chuckles, mockingly. “A child that cost you millions.”</p><p>Eleanor breathes out slowly, trying to subdue her shaking nerves so that her hand remains steady. Slowly, she inches out of cover just enough for the barrel of Jason’s gun to peek out. It’s a dangerous shot, fifty to sixty feet give or take, she has to account for bullet drop and wind. And the fact that she doesn’t want to outright kill the guy either. The M1911 is well balanced in her hand, but heavy. Modified like she thought when she saw Jason disassemble them two weeks ago.</p><p>“Are you trying to get pretty boy over here killed? Because pissing me off isn’t doin’ you any favours.”</p><p>“Then what do you want, Mask? This is between you and me, Nightwing’s got nothing to do with our business.”</p><p>“True, true.” Sionis continues. “But it’s not every day you get a chance to take down a bat.”</p><p>Fuck, <em>fuck, fuck.</em> She can’t wait for Jason to draw Sionis’ men off Dick. Because he wouldn’t be able to, not when Sionis thought he held all the cards.</p><p>“Countdown.” She murmurs so quiet she wonders for a second if the mic will pick it up. Jason shifts ever so slightly, a nervous tick to someone else but a statement to her. It’s good to know that he’s still linked to their comms even without his helmet. Dick’s reaction is far less subtle, but no one sees it but her and Jason, he licks the blood from his lips and grins.</p><p>Eleanor starts counting down under her breath, then on the last exhale squeezes the trigger. The shot goes off and several things happen at once.</p><p>Jason charges forward ducking under the first shot that Sionis manages to get off form his revolver. Dick rolls away from his captors as the thugs snap their rifles up to fire in her direction, Eleanor quickly pulls the gun back, she sees the sniper across the street recoil and duck, but can’t confirm more than that before the fighting starts up again.</p><p>Jason gets his hands on Sionis, tacking him down to the ground and Dick snatches one of the assault rifles away and uses the stock of it to smash into the owners head. Eleanor manages two steps from behind the pillar before another gunshot rings out.</p><p>And Jason slumps to the ground.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. You are not alone, I've been here the whole time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>The bruise on his cheek is a dark purple, ever so gently, featherlike, Eleanor runs her fingers over it then tucks a strand of black hair behind his ear. Dick smiles softly at her, blue eyes fluttering open. He looks so peaceful like this, maybe she should feel a little bad about drawing him from his sleep, but with the concussion he had from the hits he’d taken, she had to make sure he woke up from time to time.</p><p>“Hey.” He rasps out, voice deep and rumbly from sleep.</p><p>Eleanor leans down and presses her lips against the side of his head, careful not to bump the bruise.</p><p>“Hey,” she replies then, continuing to run her fingers through his greasy hair. “You need a shower.”</p><p>Dick chuckles sleepily, “you know just what to say to flatter a guy, babe.” He closes his eyes again, leaning into her touch. “How’s Jay?”</p><p>“Still asleep.”</p><p>One blue eye open to watch her. “Did you get some rest?”</p><p>“A little,” she hums, she’d been to wired when they got back to the safe house to sleep and too worried to get anything more than a couple of power naps in. Dick shuffles to lie on his side on the sofa, his movement slow, staring up where she’s leaning over the backrest. “I can’t wait to go back home,” she murmurs, moving her hand down the back of his head to his neck, gently rubbing at the muscles there.</p><p>He lets out a soft sigh, arching ever so slightly to give her better access. “I miss our bed.”</p><p>She does too.</p><p>“Did you manage to get a hold of Wally to water our plants?” She asks, still whisper quiet this early in the morning.</p><p>“Mhmm, he said we owe him dinner.”</p><p>“Brave of him.”</p><p>Dick chuckles. “It’s Walls, he’ll eat anything.”</p><p>Eleanor smiles, running her thumb over his eyebrow, then down the slope of his nose, his lips.</p><p>“Get some more sleep, Sunshine.”</p><p>“M’kay.” He mumbles, letting out another sleepy sigh. Eleanor slowly withdraws her hand when Dick’s breathing evens out, holding back her own yawn as she stands up properly and walks over to the door leading into the small bedroom in their safehouse.</p><p>Jason’s still asleep when she stops by the door, although it looks restless. Eleanor had spent the entire night after they’d gotten back to the safe house in an arm chair by the bed, dozing off from time to time but always on alert to make sure he was alright.</p><p>The wound he sustained hadn’t been that bad, it had knocked him out to begin with, but he’d been conscious when Dick and she had dragged him out of the building with a tied up Black Mask left behind for the GCPD. Conscious enough to curse a storm up for not killing Sionis, still, the exhaustion was probably why he hadn’t protested too violently.</p><p>A jerk of motion makes her step into the room properly, the sheets fall away by the time she makes it to the bed, exposing Jason’s bandaged chest. He looks up at her, for a moment his sleep glazed eyes shine with fear and confusion.</p><p>“Hey, Jay, it’s only me, Eleanor. You’re safe. You’re in a safehouse on Fifth in Burnley. We got here six hours ago after we left the building on Maple.” She lists as many details as she can think of, knowing how confusing being disoriented could be. How dangerous they could be when they’re confused.</p><p>“Wha—?” He blinks, fingers digging so hard into the fabric of the blanket that it almost rips.</p><p>“Safe.” Eleanor repeats, sitting down by his side. Holding her hands up in front of herself so that he can see she’s not a threat.</p><p>Jason sits up properly, running a hand through his hair, rubbing at his temple. “What happened?”</p><p>“Mask shot you. The armour took the brunt of it, no internal bleeding.” She doesn't need to mention that Batman had swooped in and pulled all of their asses out of the fire. Jay hadn't even noticed him, and Bruce hadn't wanted to cause any more stress, so he'd silently sent them on their way. Even though Eleanor saw that he'd wanted them to go back to the cave. So that he could protect them all. She doubted that Jason would have been fine with that though. </p><p>“I feel like I’ve been run over by a tank.” He mumbles, dropping his hand to his chest.</p><p>“You’ve got some severe bruising,” Eleanor tucks a leg underneath her. “And a couple of your ribs were fractured but you’re going to be fine with some rest.”</p><p>He grunts, grimacing. “You said we’re still in Burnley?”</p><p>Eleanor nods.</p><p>“And… Dick is—?”</p><p>“He’s okay, just bruised, sleeping on the sofa.” She assures. Some of the tension in Jason’s shoulders leave him. Then he pushes back the rest of the sheet through another grimace and goes to stand up. Eleanor immediately reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“Nu-huh, no way mister. You need to rest.”</p><p>“I need to get out of here.” He argues, yet can’t muster the strength to push her hand away. The dark circles under his eyes look even worse in the pale light coming through the curtains.</p><p>“You need to rest, Jaybird.”</p><p>He glares at her. “Don’t call me that.”</p><p>“Okay, Little Wing.”</p><p>“Why are you so annoying.”</p><p>“I’m your big sister,” Eleanor smiles. “It’s part of my job description to be annoying.”</p><p>He finally stops fighting her and sits back on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. Staring down at the hardwood floor with a thousand mile look in his eyes. Eleanor keeps a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing in silent support. It breaks her heart that she doesn’t know how to help him, and it scares her that even if she did know, would Jason even want her help?</p><p>“I had a plan, you know? Coming to Gotham.” He lets out a humourless chuckle. “Should have known you’d throw a wrench in it. You can’t just leave well enough alone, can you?” Jason looks up, no anger on his face, in fact, no emotion at all. Just a terrifying blankness.</p><p><em>Do you want me to leave?</em> Is what she wants to ask, but at the same time the answer to that question scares her. Eleanor wouldn’t know what to do if he said yes. <em>I want to help you.</em> Is another thing she wants to say.</p><p>“What do you want?” She asks gently instead.</p><p>Jason opens his mouth, closes it and opens it again. When no words come, he looks away. “I don’t even know anymore.” He whispers, shrugging, and then wincing when the movement agitates his ribs.</p><p>“Okay.” Eleanor nods. “Do you want to stay in Gotham?”</p><p>“Where else would I go? It’s not like I have a home anymore.”</p><p>She winces, of all the things he’s said through their conversations, that’s the one that hurts the worst. Swallowing back her own discomfort, she drops her hand from his shoulder.</p><p>“Come back with Dick and I to Boston.”</p><p>“That’s— Why?” He looks at her, then over her shoulder as Dick speaks from the doorway.</p><p>“Well for once, you’re the only one Alfred ever trusted with his recipes.” He smiles, walking over and bouncing on to the double bed as both her and Jason watch him. “And you know, you shot us, so you kinda owe us dinner.”</p><p>Eleanor feels a smile curl up on her lips.</p><p>Jason stares for a long while, until Dick opens his eyes and gives Jason a warm smile.</p><p>“You want me to cook you dinner?” Jason says slowly, like he’s talking to a child.</p><p>“And cheesecake, the one with almonds.” Dick chirps happily.</p><p>“I’m not making you cheesecake.” Jason protests, bewildered.</p><p>Dick pouts for a second. “So… Just dinner?”</p><p>“This is ridiculous,” Jason groans, turning to her. “Control your boyfriend.”</p><p>Eleanor bites back her smile, reaching out to bop Dick on the nose. “Behave.” She says, barely containing her laughter. Dick’s nose scrunches up at the gesture the cheeky smile on his lips never leaving. Sky blue eyes sparkling in delight.</p><p>“That’s <em>not</em> what I meant.” Jason grumbles.</p><p>They lapse in to comfortable silence, Dick stretching like a cat on the bed before closing his eyes, radiating contentment. Even Jason seems to relax, leaning against the headboard toying with a pillow over his lap. And Eleanor? She feels more at peace than she has in years, maybe even in her life. Two of her favourite people in the same room, tucked away from the harshness and harm of the world outside. Greedily, she thinks that if she could keep them both here forever she would, be the impenetrable wall that kept them safe.</p><p>“You really mean it?” Jason murmurs after a while, sea-green’s flickering up to look at her.</p><p>“Yes.” Without a single doubt in her mind. “It’s not a large apartment but the couch is extremely comfortable.”</p><p>“And the company is fantastic.” Dick smugly adds, his eyes still closed.</p><p>Jason ignores him, swallowing once then nods. “Okay.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Eleanor smiles again, joy spreading like a wildfire in her chest. Jason’s hesitant and vulnerable smile back makes him look like the young man he’s supposed to be. And it’s a promise of that even if things weren’t okay now, maybe they would be in the future. When the smile drops he moves down on the bed, lazily kicking Dick’s thigh to make room to lay down. Dick’s smile, however, doesn’t drop, neither does that aura of contentment. He holds his arms out for her as she watches them, and Eleanor carefully crawls on to the bed. Jason opens his eyes just briefly enough to look at her as she wriggles comfortably, then huffs out a breath.</p><p>“I’m still not cooking for you.”</p><p>“Not even a little bit?” Dick whines, still grinning like an idiot.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“But getting shot <em>really</em> hurt, Little Wing.”</p><p>“I said I was sorry.” Jason grumbles.</p><p>“Pretty please?”</p><p>“… No.”</p><p>“Jaaay.”</p><p>“Shut up Dickhead.”</p><p>“One meal?”</p><p>“You—No.”</p><p>“One meal.” Dick murmurs, nodding.</p><p>“… Fine.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whew, this has been an emotional rollercoaster. Thank you everyone that's stuck around to read/comment or just kudos!<br/>Currently I've got several ideas floating around in my head for some more stories about Ellie and the batfam so it's far from over!<br/>But for now, this chapter is closed and I'll hopefully see you all in the next one :D<br/>Stay safe out there &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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